Perfect Strangers
by DeepBlueSomewhere
Summary: James Kirk and Leonard McCoy are thrown together by chance—or is it fate?—and witness the start of a journey towards the greatest friendship either of them will ever know.  Academy!fic.  Precedes "Make It Home."
1. Pure Luck

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Perfect Strangers

_by DeepBlueSomewhere_

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Summary: James Kirk and Leonard McCoy are thrown together by chance—or is it fate?—and witness the start of a journey towards the greatest friendship either of them will ever know. Academy!fic (Precedes "Make It Home")

Author's Note: Luckily for you, my faithful readers, I had this chapter done before I even finished "Make it Home". Throughout the writing of that story I kept coming up with scenarios I wanted to bring in from Jim and Bones' time back in the academy, but I didn't really want to flood you guys with flashbacks, either. Therefore, I present to you an entirely new story, dedicated to the early days of our favorite duo's friendship. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

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Chapter One: Pure Luck

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"Friends are born, not made."  
><em>Henry B. Adams<em>

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It was sheer dumb luck that Leonard McCoy chose to split off from the other medical cadets after leaving the hospital to take the long walk back to his dorm. It was a cool, clear night early in the semester and the sky overhead was sparkling and vivid. In a rare mood to be sympathetic with nature, he decided a stroll would do him good. Sure, that meant he had to take a meandering concrete path through the other dorms—the unchallenged domain of younger, dumber cadets than himself—but it seemed like a good idea at the time. It was mid-week, so his chances of getting swept up in crowds of half-drunk weekend partiers were slim.

The night was quiet, and he relished the empty sound his regulation boots made on the sidewalk. As much as he loved his job, this had been one of those days where he had felt constantly on the verge of losing his mind. Or tearing someone a new pie-hole. Or both.

He'd been at the academy for less than six months, now in his second semester, and it was only recently that he felt even remotely like he was settling into a Starfleet life. He'd been fast-tracked through most of the general ed courses thankfully, considering he'd taken them all in triplicate back in Med School, but he wasn't lucky enough to skimp out on others: like Deep-Space Alien Bacteria 101. He had a strong stomach, but that class made even him queasy. To fill his free time he'd taken a position at the Academy Medical Center. Most days, he was sure this had been the right move. Other days—days like today—he wasn't quite as sure.

His quiet, uneventful night was predictably unwilling to last. From somewhere up ahead, a soft clinking sound, like metal on metal, carried to him in the darkness.

Leonard paused, knowing he could take a turn to the left or right and avoid whatever mystery awaited him ahead—whether it was some fresh cadet up to no good as usual, a drunken brawler, or something else altogether. He really didn't want to know. Something was making noise in the middle of a dark campus at night, and that should have been enough to make him turn on his heel and find another route. He didn't need any more excitement in his day.

He couldn't have said if it was stubbornness or sheer curiosity, but something kept him from making the smart choice. He pressed on straight ahead, ears cocked for the sound to come again.

It did, and this time McCoy was close enough to make out it's source. A flagpole stood in the middle of the campus dorms, rising high above the buildings to proudly display an American and a Starfleet Academy flag. In the pool of light directly beneath it, lay a cadet.

At least, Leonard was going to assume that he was a cadet. He was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, so he really couldn't be sure.

The kid lay flat on his back, staring up at the flagpole. And he was singing to himself. _Singing_. And he wasn't even being very quiet about it.

Intrigued despite his best misgivings, Leonard strode towards him. He walked right up the cadet, standing above him to peer down into his face before the kid even bothered to look up at him.

Leonard's very first thought was that he had never seen anyone with eyes that color. Or maybe he had? He had the nagging sensation that he'd seen this one before.

The kid grinned widely up at him, a nasty-looking black eye standing out in stark contrast to his pale skin.

"Hey, Bones."

The doctor blinked. "Excuse me?"

Sighing, the cadet sat up with some difficulty. Leonard finally realized that a short length of chain was attached to his ankles and looped around the base of the flagpole. The kid had to twist around awkwardly to look up at McCoy from where he was sitting, but he managed it. "The ex-wife took the whole damn planet in the divorce. All I got left are my bones."

McCoy scowled at the half-decent impression of his southern drawl. The kid looked familiar, but for the life of him he couldn't remember ever having this conversation with him.

Sensing his confusion, the cadet grinned widely. Even looking like he'd lost a fight with a blender, had a brilliant smile: the kind girls probably fell all over. "If it helps at all, I think you may have been a little inebriated the first time we met."

_Oh._

"The shuttle?" Leonard grumbled. He hoped he was wrong.

The kid nodded.

"Wonderful. I didn't do anything embarrassing, did I?"

"Other than being buzzed?" He laughed. "No, you just threatened to throw up on me."

"I remember you. You're the one who refused to take Andorian shingles seriously."

The kid held up his hands. "They are as serious as a funeral."

Leonard glared down at the cadet. "What's your name, kid?"

"Jim."

"Got a last name?"

"Nope."

Leonard sighed heavily. He knew this was the point at which he should probably just walk away. Before he got involved. He wasn't that lucky. "So, uh, Jim. With no last name. What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Well it just seemed like a good night to strip naked and stargaze, Bones."

"Stop calling me that."

Despite the fact that he _knew _he should be very irritated right now, something about this kid was magnetic. McCoy found himself unable to walk away, despite the screaming mental sirens going off in his head warning him, in the name of self preservation, to do just that.

"So what's with that?" He gestured pointedly to the thin, but apparently effective chain that anchored the boy's ankles to the flagpole.

"Just a prank." Jim laughed, lifting one ankle to rattle the flimsy chain. "A couple of the guys thought it would be funny."

"Let me get this straight. It's forty-five degrees out here and your buddies thought it would just be 'funny' to strip you down and leave you out here to freeze? Your fingers are turning blue."

At least Jim had the grace to look abashed as he shrugged.

"Kid. You're a damn idiot."

The boy _laughed_ at that. Threw his head back and laughed, a sound that echoed across the empty campus. Funny how such a scrawny kid could fill up the whole place like that.

"When you're done laughing, you might want to get your whole 'just a prank' story sorted out." McCoy sighed as he fished for his communicator. "I'm calling Campus Security to come 'un-prank' you and I know they're going to have some questions."

"Hey, don't do that!" Jim reached out imploringly. "Seriously, they hate me. They won't help. I can get myself out. Just—do you have a pencil, or something?"

Leonard stared at him, seriously wondering if the boy hadn't suffered some mental damage at some point. "A pencil?"

"Yeah. You know, they're yellow; made of wood—"

"I know what a pencil is." McCoy snapped. "What on earth makes you think I would carry one around with me?"

Jim rolled his eyes. "_Anything._ It doesn't _have_ to be a pencil. Give my your stylus; that would work."

"I'm not going to let you break my stylus. Those things aren't cheap to replace, you know."

"Oh for the love of—do you have something sharp?"

Grumbling to himself that this was _such a bad idea_, Leonard fished around in his bag for a moment. He tried to come up with a good, self-sustaining reason that he should just walk away now, maybe ring in to security, and leave the kid to whatever unholy mess he had managed to land himself in. He couldn't think of one. Jim couldn't be older than twenty, and as cocky and smart-ass as he seemed… he was still freezing to death chained to a freaking flagpole in the middle of an empty campus and if Leonard didn't help him, there was a good chance that he would be out here all night.

He didn't want that on his conscience. So he told himself.

"Take your pick." He begrudgingly produced a variety of scalpels, shears, and needles for the kid to choose from.

Jim whistled slowly. "Should I be worried about this?" He plucked a thin scalpel out of Leonard's hand. "I'm not sure how I feel about meeting some random guy in the middle of the night with a bag full of killing equipment."

"It's not 'killing equipment' you ignorant buffoon." Leonard snapped, trying not to look impressed as Jim inserted the scalpel into the crude lock and snapped it open in one expert move. "And I'm not sure how I feel about meeting a guy in the middle of the night who's that good at picking locks."

Jim grinned as he stood stiffly, shaking out his left leg. He offered the tool back to McCoy. "Well then. I guess we both have questions we're better off not asking."

"I'm a doctor." McCoy growled, eyeing the kid's limp suspiciously. He wasn't certain if he wanted to let this troublemaker into his life, but he _was_ certain that he didn't want to leave him postulating about his nighttime activities. "I just came off a shift."

"It's two in the morning." Jim frowned at him.

"Yeah, it is. And unfortunately for me, idiots don't stop being idiots just because it's an ungodly hour." He looked pointedly at the flagpole.

Jim ignored his comment, still stretching out his stiff limbs and rubbing at his cold arms absently. "So…. can I come back to your place?"

Leonard stared. "Kid." He said slowly. "I don't know what planet you're from, but most guys would stop pressing their luck at about the time when I let you borrow my 'killing equipment'."

"Don't worry, I'm not most guys." Jim grinned widely. "Besides, we're old buddies."

"Yeah, how's that?"

"We sat next to each other on the shuttle, and you almost threw up on me, and you _definitely_ offered me booze." Jim nodded emphatically. "Buddies." He repeated.

Leonard stared.

The kid shrugged. "Plus, it just might, kind of so happen, that I'm locked out of my dorm for the night…"

"Plenty of benches around here." McCoy smirked as he began to walk away, back towards his own warm room.

He paused when he didn't hear Jim following him, and turned.

"Well? You coming or what?"

Jim smiled brilliantly, catching up with McCoy.

"You look like an idiot." The doctor grumbled again, stripping off his coat. "Here."

"I'll be alright." Jim waved him away. "You keep it."

"Wasn't a request." McCoy dropped the jacket over the kid's shoulders. "You wear that if you think you're coming back with me." He offered his best no-nonsense glare.

Jim laughed. "If you say so." They walked in silence for a moment, and then he mumbled softly. "Thanks, Bones."

McCoy didn't bother correcting him this time.

.

"Let me get this straight." Leonard took a seat across the coffee table from Jim, placing a cup of hot tea into the kid's pale fingers. "You were woken up out of the blue at night, dragged out into the center of campus, and chained to a flagpole. Half-naked. In the middle of a San Francisco winter. That doesn't sound like a prank to me."

"Ah, they were just fooling around." Jim grinned a grin that was beginning to look less and less real.

Now that they were back in McCoy's dorm, the doctor had a clear look at the nasty black eye and variety of colorful bruises the kid sported like war medals. He was beginning to suspect that this prank had been neither as harmless nor as simple as Jim would have him believe.

"Look, kid." Leonard swatted at Jim's feet where they were propped on his table. "I went through the whole college thing before, years ago. I know how these guys can be."

"Seriously," Jim laughed, "You're worrying too much. I didn't expect to be dragged out of bed at midnight, so I started thrashing. That's where the eye came from, and that's all there is to it."

Leonard glared, mentally willing the kid's thick skin to peel back off his skull to reveal the truth beneath. "Sure." He grumbled.

Jim was now sporting an extra set of Bones' regulation blues, but they were several sizes too big and looked ridiculous on him. Beside that he was curled around a mug of tea like his life depended on the warmth it provided, and two blankets were draped around his shoulders. And he still looked like he might keel over, a blue, human-shaped popsicle, at any moment.

"I can take care of myself." Jim insisted. The sharp contrast his words provided against his over-bundled image made it impossible for Leonard to resist snorting.

"Sure you can." He levered himself back out of his chair to walk into the small spare room where a roommate would be someday and snatch the blanket off that bed, too. He dropped it in Jim's lap as he passed, and although the kid glared, he accepted it gratefully.

Leonard had been transferred into to a Medical Officer's quarters after his first semester ended so he could be closer to the hospital. It came with a lot of perks: his own kitchenette and a nice, furnished sitting room, for starters, but it was still fairly small and felt nothing like home. He wasn't sure that it ever would.

"Where's your roommate?" Jim tucked the extra blanket around his legs. "Won't he miss this?"

"Don't have one." McCoy glanced appraisingly at the growing pile of dishes in the sink and weighed his options. He could get to them later. He headed for the freezer instead. "What about you?" He nodded at the kid as he pulled out a tray of ice. "Can't you call your roommate to come fish your ass out of trouble?"

Jim laughed again. He seemed to do that a lot, most disturbingly at things that were no laughing matter. Like being chained to a flagpole, for instance. "He doesn't care." He grinned. "As far as he's concerned I'm out with a girl somewhere, anyway."

"That's kind of careless of him."

The cadet shrugged. "I'm not his problem. I don't think he likes me much, anyway."

Leonard tried his hardest to picture someone who could resist the charming smile and marble-blue eyes of the boy in front of him, and found the task impossible.

He knew Jim wasn't his problem either, but he couldn't help feeling a little responsible for the kid. Maybe it was the physician in him, but he had tried and failed to find it in his heart to turn the cadet away. The colorful bruises didn't help, either: it gave the kid a fragile look that didn't match the fire in his eyes in the least.

But in the hour and a half since he'd known Jim, he'd already come to realize that he was nothing if not a contradiction.

"Well I don't make a habit of kicking lost puppies," he drawled, "so I guess you can crash on the couch for tonight. Or the extra bed, but I'll warn you now that the couch is more comfortable."

The huge smile the kid shot his way was reward enough for his generosity. "Thanks, Bones."

"One condition." The doctor lifted a finger.

Now Jim looked wary. "Okay," he agreed suspiciously.

McCoy wrapped the bag of ice he had prepared in a washcloth and lobbed it underhanded to the kid. Jim caught it easily without dropping his mug.

"Put that on your eye." McCoy wandered back over to the couch. "Doctor's orders."

Jim looked down at the crudely-wrapped ice pack with a smile. "Well, since you're so convincing."

"Damn straight." He pulled the blankets over the kid's face and headed for his own room. "Stay out of my booze," he called over his shoulder.

He turned off the lights, and turned in.

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And so it begins... :) Please review!


	2. Crossing Wires

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Chapter Two: Crossing Wires

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"You can always tell a real friend: when you've made a fool of yourself he doesn't feel you've done a permanent job."  
>Laurence J. Peter<p>

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The next morning, Jim was gone—Leonard's good spare uniform with him. The blankets were folded neatly on the couch and the mug was clean and dry in the small dish drainer by Bones' sink. As were the rest of McCoy's dishes.

If nothing else, the kid was clearly a neat freak. If not for those small signs of disruption, Leonard might have easily sworn the boy had never been there at all.

He considered this as he stood in the doorway, staring out at the small dining room and kitchen. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but certainly not this wordless departure. Leonard knew he probably shouldn't dwell on it: Should pack up his books and head off to class, but something about last night was nagging at his mind and was not willing to allow him to forget about the odd boy who called himself Jim.

Call him crazy, but that kid had big things in his future.

.

As it turned out, he was compelled neither to hunt Jim down again, nor to forget about him. Not thirty seconds after plopping down in vacant seat near the top row in the Stellar Cartography auditorium a pair of dazzlingly bright blue eyes popped up in his field of vision.

"Hey, Bones." Jim seated himself facing backwards on a seat just below Leonard.

"Well look who it is." McCoy drawled, "I almost didn't recognize you with your clothes on."

"Someone didn't get much sleep."

"What can I say? I spent half my night patching up some dumb cadet."

"Lucky him."

Bones glared at the back of Jim's head as the cadet turned around to face the instructor, who had just entered and was now attempting to restore some semblance of order to his classroom. For obvious reasons, there weren't a whole lot of students who paid close attention to this class. This may have had something to do with the fact that the Professor was a small Tellarite with an unusually laid-back disposition who seemed to believe the humans were inferior in intellect. He displayed this prejudice through over-simplified tests and extreme lenience with his "mentally challenged pupils". As of yet, no-one had been dumb enough to challenge his misconception, and the majority of the cadets found his class a welcome respite from the challenges of other courses.

Leonard had never noticed Jim in his class before, but as explained he rarely paid attention to anything going on in the room anyway, and generally spent the lectures buried in his PADD catching up on reading or assignments for other classes. Not to mention that the auditorium could easily house five hundred students. It wasn't hard to believe that faces got lost in the crowd, here.

It wasn't until the end of a full day of classes that Leonard began to have his suspicions. He walked into a medical class and spotted Jim sitting across the room, and decided he'd just about had it.

He strode across the room purposefully, stopping inches from Jim's foot.

"Astrosciences I get. Subspace Theory, Organic Chemistry, I'll buy it." Bones glared down at the cadet. "But there is no way in hell that I'm going to believe that _you_ are enrolled in Advanced Experimental Medicine of the 23rd Century."

"You know, there is some interesting stuff in this class." Jim waved his fork out across the crowd. He had his feet propped up on the next row, and a steaming Styrofoam bowl of some cafeteria-issue mush in his hand. "I never knew that Terran Subspace had the potential to produce so many medically relevant antibodies."

McCoy felt a vein pop in his forehead. This kid was breaking so many rules right now that Leonard didn't even know where to start.

"You're not allowed to eat in here." He huffed, trying to keep his temper in check. "You're not even supposed to _be _in here, kid."

"Who says?" Jim sounded indignant. "I sit in on Rath's classes all the time. He doesn't care."

_Walk away now_. Leonard reminded himself.

"It's against regulations." He ground out, hardly able to believe the words coming out of his own mouth. "And why are you stalking me anyway?"

"Why Bones." Jim's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "I'm offended."

"Of course you are." Leonard sighed heavily. He climbed over the row to sit down next to Jim, unwilling to spend another class staring at the back of the kid's head. "Of _course_ you are."

Jim grinned widely, tapping his propped-up feet in time to some incomprehensible tune in his head. He offered a forkful of mush to Leonard, and the doctor swatted his hand away in disgust.

This was going to be a long week.

.

"She just doesn't get it, you know?" McCoy's words were slurred, his eyes bleary as he starred down into his fourth—fifth?—drink. He wasn't drunk, just very pleasantly removed from reality.

"Women are pigs." Jim agreed with a raised glass in what Leonard was sure was a mixed metaphor, but he just couldn't be sure after this many drinks.

He wasn't sure how he'd wound up at one of the San Francisco's best hole-in-the-wall bars close to midnight on a Friday, but _damn_ if it didn't feel good to unwind and drink until his head started getting fuzzy and his tongue loosened. Loosened more than usual, that is.

As it turned out, Jim was a pretty good listener. He was even better at making sarcastic comments, obscure references, and hitting on and/or pissing off anything on two legs that happened to walk by, but somehow all of that was combining to put Leonard into an even better mood.

"It was just a birthday present, for my little girl, you know?" Leonard moaned to his beer. "I was just trying to be a good dad." He tried to take a sip of his drink, but wound up setting it back down on the bar before the glass even touched his lips. "She could have given it to her."

"What a bitch." Jim supplied helpfully. "I'd have split, too."

"Yeah." McCoy nodded emphatically. "It was a good idea. Wasn't it?"

"Absolutely."

Leonard was too buzzed to be irritated that Jim was simply agreeing with everything he said. He hadn't had someone agree with him in a very long time. He finished off his drink a long, desperate swig, and slammed the glass down with a flourish. He contemplated cutting himself off, but Jim beat him to the punch, swiping his glass and handing it off to the passing bartender.

"I don't want to have to carry you home." He supplied devilishly when Leonard dared to scowl at him. "You look heavy."

McCoy really didn't have much of an answer for that. He folded his arms on the bar and sighed heavily.

Jim opened his mouth as if to continue their conversation, but was cut off when a heavy cadet a good six inches taller than himself slammed into him, knocking him into the bar and off his stool.

"Hey!" McCoy growled indignantly, but Jim was already pulling himself up, waving Leonard down.

The big cadet laughed with his friend, not bothering to give Jim a hand up. "Sorry Kirk." He said in fake concern. "Just didn't see you there."

Jim shot him a tense, restrained smile. "Yeah. I figured." He nodded. His fists were clenched and he looked ready to swing.

McCoy sat on the edge of his stool, ready to leap after him if he tried anything stupid.

"Don't be so invisible next time." The cadet's friend laughed as they slowly wandered away, keeping their eyes on Jim.

McCoy thought that this was a wise move, considering how Jim looked like he was about to launch off after them.

"What was that all about?" He demanded when the pair of offenders had safely meandered out of the building.

Jim shrugged, returning to his half-finished drink.

"I swear to god, you've got more enemies than a colony of tribbles." Leonard grumbled as he joined him reluctantly.

"I don't have enemies." Jim smiled tersely, still tense as a bowstring. "Just people I disagree with."

Leonard snorted.

"Guess we'll have to find a new bar next week." The younger cadet shrugged.

"Why?" Leonard was offended. "I like this place."

"I just don't want to get into any more fights." Jim hedged, shrugging one shoulder again as he swirled his drink around in the glass.

"Just cause a guy bumps into you at a bar doesn't mean you have to punch his lights out." McCoy griped. "You're going to have to grow a thicker skin if you're going to make it in the command track, kid."

Jim slammed down his glass, startling Leonard. His jaw was tightly clenched when he turned to look at the doctor. "Yeah, and maybe you're going to have to grow a thicker skin if you're going to make it in the divorce track."

Slapping a handful of credits down on the bar, Jim yanked his coat off the back of his chair and headed for the door without further ado.

Shocked more than anything, Leonard watched him leave. His mental scales swung wildly between "just let the prick go" and "what the hell; there is more to this than meets the eye".

He made his decision quickly, and stumbled slightly as he shot after Jim.

"Hey!" He yelled once he reached the street. Jim was already halfway down the block. "Jim!"

The kid stopped, and McCoy jogged to catch up to him.

"What was that?" He growled, grabbing the kid's shoulder and spinning him around to face him.

Jim slapped his hand away almost viciously. "It was nothing, _McCoy_. Just let it go."

"Don't you lie to me." McCoy felt his temper flaring at the obvious untruth. Did Jim think he was stupid? "What's going on with those two?"

"They just don't like me very much." The cadet scowled. "Why is that _your_ problem?"

"Are they the ones who 'pranked' you the other night?"

"Jesus, Bones!" Jim threw up his hands. "Why can't you just mind your own business?"

"If either of us were minding our own business, we wouldn't be crashing in some god-forsaken bar in the middle of nowhere." Leonard insisted. "I would have left you chained to that goddamn pole, and you wouldn't be haunting all my classes."

"You don't decide what classes I take." Jim hissed. "But don't worry: from here on out, I'll leave you alone."

Leonard clenched his jaw in fury as the kid spun to leave.

"They called you Kirk." He called after him. "So would that make you James Kirk?"

Jim froze; this time he wouldn't turn to meet McCoy's accusations.

"Kind of makes sense." McCoy slowly closed the distance between them. "I guess I didn't really put it together at first but… it does make sense."

He walked around Jim's frozen figure until he stood directly in front of him. The cadet was staring at the sidewalk, fists once more clenched. McCoy half expected the kid to take a swing at _him_.

"Yeah, you guessed it." Jim smiled bitterly, letting out his words in a shuddering breath. "Good for you."

McCoy stared, in deep water and unsure how to escape safely.

"So what now?" Jim looked up at him with fury burning in his ice-blue eyes. It was an expression that hid hurt and bitterness, and was painfully transparent to the doctor. "I guess you really can't be seen running around with some no-good, wash-out son of a dead Starfleet Officer. I mean, what would people _think_…."

"Kid." Leonard blinked. "Why would I give a shit about that?"

Jim threw up his hands. "I don't know! Everyone else does."

"Yeah, and everyone else is a prick."

Jim laughed against his will, his tense shoulders slowly relaxing.

"I thought we were here to moan and groan about you." He sighed.

"We were." Leonard shrugged. "And I've already talked your ear off, so. That's enough of that."

Jim didn't look sure and stood where he was, hands on his hips and half-turned away as he refused to look at the Doctor.

"Listen here, punk." Leonard threw his arm around Jim's shoulders, guiding their steps back towards the academy. "I don't think you can get back to campus on your own: and to be honest, I might not be so steady on my feet either. So I guess this means we're stuck with each other."

Jim laughed, and it was almost free of that haunting anger and pain again.

He had been right about one thing all along, Leonard realized as they managed to stumble their way back to the nearest rail station.

There was much more to James Kirk than met the eye.

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Wow, I've been a little obsessed with this story lately. Can you believe I now have chapter seven done already? Yeah, neither can I. Let me tell you, you will be getting very steady updates for quite some time. :)

**Ackeberlynn, Kalmiel, spinalcracker, Harm Marie, Lori Jean, zhen123, Lynaeve, Original Dinner Plate, Romanse:** Thank you so much for all your reviews on the first chapter! You made me so happy. :3

**Squigglytext**: Yes, I'm definitely a sucker for a good academy fic, especially considering they're so hard to find. There are so many different versions of Jim's academy days, but so few that seem to be realistic and/or in character. I had to take my shot; I hope I manage both. :) Thank you so much for your kind words!

**ShamelessSpocker**: Awwww, thank you so much! I'm so glad you're enjoying this one as well as the last, and I am definitely glad that you're sticking around. I hope you continue to enjoy the story. :)

**frozenlaughter**: Yes, I definitely had to insert some self-indulgent fluffangst in there, I couldn't help it. I've had that image in my head far too long. ;) So glad you're enjoying it, and thank you!

**laynee**: Yay! Well as your new favorite person, I will have to try my very best not to disappoint you, I hope you like the new chapter!

**lynxzpanther**: Thank you for all your reviews on "Make It Home", and I'm so glad you're enjoying this story as well! Hope it lives up to expectations. :)

**SupernaturalGeek**: Thank you! Glad the story seems realistic so far: love me some Jim and Bones banter. I can't help it, they just tend to argue a lot as I write hahaha. It's in their nature. Thanks for stopping in!

Thank you again, and do review!


	3. One Step Forward

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Chapter Three: One Step Forward

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"The language of friendship is not words but meanings."  
>Henry David Thoreau<p>

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James Tiberius Kirk had a reputation. Although Bones—that is, _McCoy_—had been vaguely aware of it in the most distant, impersonal sense possible, it now became a glaring reality that seemed eager to slap him in the face at every turn.

Once he'd made it clear to the kid that he didn't intend to base any relationship on fame, or lack thereof, he began to realize that others didn't feel quite the same way. On a daily basis he suddenly found other cadets flocking to him, asking in hushed tones and suspicious whispers if he was friends with Jim Kirk and how _had_ he managed it? Others, who had never given a damn about him one way or the other, suddenly avoided him like the plague.

McCoy was wondering if he needed to seriously reevaluate his opinion of James Kirk.

Leonard was a quiet man; it might even be said that he was something of a recluse. He didn't really cater to the late-night party crowds. He was getting on in years, at least in comparison to the kids around him, and he wasn't too proud to admit that sometimes he would much rather kick back in his dorm with a bottle of bourbon that go paint the town red with a pretty stranger he might never see again. This might be one reason that he had never heard most of the terrible rumors circulating around campus about his new friend.

For one, Jim was considered a lady's man in the worst possible sense of the word. So perhaps this one had the ring of truth to it, since Jim frequently spent his nights out and about in the arms of various female companions, but Leonard had yet to witness this behavior differ very much from every other cocky cadet at the academy. In some ways he was better, considering he actually got his damn studying done (though where he found the time, Leonard would never know).

Another involved the idea that he was somehow deeply ingratiated to some of the academy professors and faculty. It couldn't be denied that he was called in to Captain Pike's office on a regular basis, which leant some credence to the theory, but considering that he never spoke a word of what went on behind closed doors during his visits Leonard thought it a bit of a stretch to assume that he was experiencing anything more than a casual conversation—perhaps a chastisement, at worst.

Other rumors abounded, of course, most without any kind of real evidence to give them weight: Jim Kirk was a cheater; he always had perfect grades. Jim was lazy, frequently skipping class or skimping on assignments. Kirk was a brawler, out to pick a fight with anything or anyone that looked at him sideways. James Kirk was a leech, riding his father's claim to fame through the academy processes and regulations.

That last one always made McCoy's blood boil. There was something so inherently _wrong_ about rubbing something like that in the face of a kid who was just trying to make it though life on his own merit. Not to mention the emotional pain it must cause Jim to be constantly reminded that he would never know his father, but also that said father was a much-talked about hero of the Federation to whom he was being consistently compared. And then for someone to imply that Kirk might be taking advantage of his own tragedy for personal gain? Apparently, none of these Starfleet half-wits knew him at all.

Which lead Leonard to his next observation. Other than McCoy, whom he annoyed—that is, hung out with—constantly, Jim kept his own company almost strictly. Sure he flirted his scrawny ass off with the female cadets, but not one of them could claim any kind of relationship with him beyond a night or two of passionate "fun".

Maybe this observation was what kept Leonard from doing more than grumbling avidly every time the kid showed up on one of his hospital shifts just to "shoot the breeze", as he put it. He popped into his classes to sit in; he dragged McCoy to all of his many abstract haunts just so he wouldn't have to drink alone.

He took the kid's explanations in stride, but the doctor had the nagging suspicion that he was actually Jim Kirk's only friend.

Which was strange, because despite the wild rumors and theories about him, almost everyone seemed to like him. He had a magnetic personality and devilish charm that people just couldn't say no to: even most of the professors were wholly enchanted by the Iowa farm boy with the sky-blue eyes. Not to mention that he was smarter than hell: McCoy was awed the first time Jim spoke up in class and began explaining advanced theories on sub-space transitional geometry to the goddamn_ professor._

That said, there were, apparently, several cadets who _didn't_ like Jim. Namely, Jameson, Lenot, and Burgess, all third-year students. Lenot was on the command track like Jim, while Jameson and Burgess were both in Security Officer training. All three seemed quite intent on making Jim's time at the academy a living hell. Mostly this took the form of harassment and verbal battles, but Leonard felt it was bound to escalate. Jim didn't seem keen on taking steps to protect himself, but that didn't mean McCoy wasn't going to keep his eyes peeled. He'd already come to the conclusion that these three clowns had been the ones responsible for Jim's state of being weeks before, when Kirk and McCoy had been reintroduced to one another in such an odd way that it could have only been fate. Who knew what else they had been and might yet be involved in?

Coming to the realization that for some reason, he was the only one in the whole damn academy who James Kirk had chosen to allow into his life had a profound effect on McCoy's day to day life. He didn't really have to drone through his boring, featureless days with no end or goal in sight. Funny how much of a difference companionship could make. For one thing, he suddenly had a foolproof drinking buddy. No-one listened to the kid much anyway, so his lips were sealed. McCoy could rant and rave about his ex-wife, his beautiful daughter, and anything else he damn well pleased, and Jim was a solid steel vault.

Jim was not nearly as open about himself, but that was fine with McCoy—for now. He focused on getting the kid to realize that he wasn't about to turn tail and run on him. The trust could come later.

And Leonard had, at some point in the last several months, added gaining Jim's trust to his long list of life aspirations. The kid hid it well from most people, but he was clearly a walking textbook of deeply-buried psychological problems. Leonard had minored in Psychology back in Georgia, and as much as he tried not to let that knowledge be the filter through which he saw his friend, sometimes Jim just reminded him so damn much of those classes that he couldn't help it. He hid weakness with ridiculous arrogance and over-played humor; he was naturally evasive and deflected any uncomfortably personal questions. He had people, places, whole years in his life that he simply wouldn't speak about: it was like a brick wall went up as soon as the conversation came too close.

Maybe all of these things should have been warning signs to Leonard that he was getting too involved: that he needed to back off and give the kid room and what did Leonard care if he was a mental time-bomb just ticking away? As hard as he tried, McCoy just couldn't bring himself to lock this kid out. Hell, he hadn't given a damn what happened to anyone since his wife had stopped letting him see his daughter on holidays.

And yet now, he found himself getting angry when Jim came to class with no way to take notes and a broken PADD because "someone" had broken into his dorm room and thrown all of his books and electronics into the sink, or when he couldn't come drinking that night because "someone" had trashed his dorm and his wallet had turned up missing.

It wasn't until he ran into the kid in the cafeteria sporting _another_ black eye over his almost-healed shiner from two weeks before that McCoy got really mad.

"Goddamnit Jim, this can't go on." He hissed as he slid into a seat across from his friend.

"Nice to see you too, Bones." Jim smiled at him but cut it short when the expression pulled at his split lip.

"Who did that to you?" Leonard demanded, eyes narrowing.

"I got into a tussle with a couple of the other cadets in advanced hand-to-hand." Jim was getting too good at hiding the defensive undertones in his voice. "It was no big deal."

"I've heard a lot of domestic abuse victims say the same thing." Leonard insisted. "You can't keep playing it off."

Kirk laughed. "Jesus, you're paranoid."

"Some would say I'm honest."

"_Some_ are insane." Jim's voice was getting sharp; he clearly didn't want to pursue the matter.

"I don't get it, Jim." McCoy stabbed his fork viciously into the piece of chicken on his plate. "I'm a doctor. Did you really think I would just ignore the fact that every time I see you, you're limping or bleeding?"

"I would hope, that as my friend, you would respect my privacy."

Jim was getting testy, but it was the first time had ever referred to them as friends. Somehow, it warmed McCoy's heart. Or maybe that was just his growing rage at this infuriating kid.

They ate in tense silence for several long minutes. At least, McCoy ate—ripping pieces of food from his plate and jamming them into his mouth without really paying attention to what he was consuming. Jim mostly pushed his food around with his fork, eyebrows drawn together.

McCoy ignored him. He was trying to come up with a good, solid reason that he was actually willing to stick around this idiot. They argued liked an old married couple and could hardly stand to be around each other at times: and yet here they were. By some miracle, they always wound up back in the same place, at the same time, somehow enjoying each other's company through flying insults and bad tempers. It was beyond the doctor's comprehension.

"You want to go to the Beacon tomorrow night?" Jim asked awkwardly after a few minutes of waiting without luck for the tension to dispel.

"No, I don't." McCoy snapped. "I actually have a job, remember? I have a twelve hour emergency sector shift tomorrow night after class, and by god if you show your face around the ER it had better be for a checkup."

"Okay then." Jim laughed. "No need to bite my head off; I was just asking."

Leonard glowered at his friend, wondering how many hits he could take to the skull before he got the stubborn streak beaten out of him.

"So… I'm gonna go." Jim suggested with a smile, correctly interpreting Leonard's dangerous expression. "I don't want to get chopped up and stuffed in a trash can, or something."

McCoy didn't stop him as Kirk dumped his tray of uneaten food into the nearest compactor and left the cafeteria.

If Jim's wide array of obsessive enemies didn't get to him first, McCoy swore he was really going to kill him someday.

.

Jim didn't show up the next night. McCoy couldn't decide if he was more worried or grateful for this fact. Either way, he was able to get through most of his graveyard shift without incident. Well, other than the usual.

"Doctor McCoy," a nurse informed him, "We have a patient in ER."

"I don't suppose Briggs could take it?" Leonard took the file from her hand reluctantly.

She looked apologetic. "On break."

"Of course he is." Mumbling under his breath, Leonard headed for the small office. It just figured: ten hours without major incident was too good to be true.

"Conroy?" He asked as he stepped into the cramped space, referencing the file.

"Yeah." The cadet eyed him. "Matt."

"Well, Matt." Leonard pulled a stool towards him with his foot and plopped down onto it. "What seems to be the problem?"

"I need to get some kind of knockout pill or something." Matt complained. "I really need to get some sleep and it's just impossible."

"Oh, and why is that?" McCoy raised a bored eyebrow at him. Conroy wasn't the first cadet to come crawling to medical for sleep aids. Most of them needed nothing more than a full day off from parties and classes and some uninterrupted sleep.

"My roommate. He's always awake, and then there's these guys always trashing his room."

Leonard blinked. "Who's your roommate?"

"Uh, Kirk. Jim Kirk."

Of course.

"So you're telling me that you want a sleeping pill of some kind because your roommate keeps you awake." McCoy tried not to let the sarcasm he was feeling seep into his voice too much.

"Dude, he's like _always_ awake." Matt went on, sensing Leonard's doubt. "I'm not kidding. And it's worse when he actually does go to bed. He always wakes up screaming and shit, like right in the middle of the night."

_Oh, Jim._ Leonard's heart clenched.

"And you didn't bother trying to figure out why this roommate of yours doesn't sleep?" McCoy could no longer hide his sarcasm. "Maybe you could help him out. Maybe he _needs_ help."

"I don't really care." Matt sighed. "I just wish he would switch rooms or something. I have midterms coming up, man."

"Don't call me 'man'."

"Sorry. Doctor."

"That's better. Now, I'll tell you what you don't need: that's a sleeping pill."

"Are you kidding me?"

"Not in the least." McCoy scowled. "I think you need to get your roommate to come see me and we'll see about getting _him_ some natural, unmedicated rest. I have a hunch the rest will follow."

"You're the worst doctor ever." Conroy whined.

"You're the worst roommate ever." McCoy raised his eyebrow at Matt's indignant expression. "It's not like there's nothing you could do. Why not help the guy out? Keep these pranksters out of your dorm?"

"Seriously, I don't give a shit about this guy." Matt frowned. "He's kind of a freak. And the other cadets never mess with my room; that's why I let them in. They're just having a little fun is all."

_Gotcha._

"So you not only sit on your ass while these screwballs mess with your roommate, but you _let _them into your dorm. Is that what you're telling me?"

Matt froze, eyes widening a fraction. He was clearly recalling certain dormitory regulations regarding the intrusion and destruction of other cadets' personal property.

Leonard leaned forward menacingly, lowering his voice. "Now unless you have something seriously wrong with you, and by my estimations, you don't, I suggest you get your ass out of my office before I report your activities to campus security."

Leonard didn't need to warn the kid twice. The cadet shot out of his office before McCoy could think of anything else to say to him.

He frowned at the swinging door for a few moments after the boy disappeared.

It seemed like he and James Kirk had a lot to talk about.

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Well, now we're getting to the good part. ;)

Thanks for sticking with me, and if you haven't caught it yet, I posted a little something extra for you this week. A One-Shot called "Breaking Stride" is now up on my profile. It follows "Make It Home", so if you didn't get quite enough of the angst in that story maybe this can scratch your itch. Go check it out, maybe leave some love. :]

I don't have time to answer reviews today, but I definitely will next week. Just know that I greatly appreciate your support and I hope further chapters will motivate you to stick around.

Take care!

DeepBlue


	4. I Promise You Walls

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Chapter Four: I Promise You Walls

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"Sometimes you put walls up not to keep people out, but to see who cares enough to break them down."

Unknown

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Leonard knew where Jim's dorm room was, but he'd managed to avoid visiting it so far just because he couldn't be held responsible for his reaction if he ever met any of these three cadets there, or worse yet, caught them in the act of terrorizing one of the few decent people McCoy had met at the academy. Why Jim didn't stick up for himself was beyond Leonard's comprehension: it wasn't as if the kid couldn't, and he definitely wasn't out to avoid a fight. He made that abundantly clear with every weekend scrap, many of which had brought him to the brink of academic suspension. The kid had either the best, or the worst luck imaginable.

When he reached Jim's door, he paused, hand raised to knock. It was four in the morning. He briefly considered just letting the kid sleep since, as it seemed, he clearly didn't get to do that often, but once he remembered the countless dozens of nights that Jim had woken him up at two or three AM "just to talk", all such reservations deserted him.

He knocked three times, loud and hard.

There was silence for a very long moment, and Bones began to doubt that the kid was here at all. Eventually the door slid open automatically with a soft hiss of compressed air and Leonard stepped inside.

"Bones." Jim said in surprise. He was sitting on the gray couch in the tiny common room, knees pulled up to his chin while a PADD in his hands provided the only light in the room. A thin regulation blanket was tugged over his shoulders like a cloak. "What are you doing here?" He asked hesitantly when the doctor said nothing.

"That's really terrible for your eyes, you know." Leonard scowled. "Lights, fifty percent."

Jim blinked at him owlishly as the lights came on. His hair was sticking up all over the place and the shadows hanging under his eyes confirmed McCoy's suspicions.

"So why are you awake?" Leonard tried to sound casual as he ambled over to the couch.

Jim shrugged, stretching out his long legs as he set the PADD aside. "Had some catching up to do."

"Bullshit." Leonard wandered around the tiny apartment appraisingly. "You never have catching up to do."

Jim frowned. "Maybe this time I did."

Leonard propped open a door; Matt Conroy was passed out on the bed inside. _Prick._ He shut it and opened the next door. "This your room?"

"What's gotten into you?" The defensive tone Jim adopted as he shot off the couch was proof enough.

Leonard wandered into the room, which was barely large enough to move around in. It was shockingly neat and clean; a pair of boots and a brown shoebox pressed against the wall the only signs of human habitation. Well, those and the thin mattress, propped against the wall, and a flimsy bedframe, which lay in pieces on the floor.

McCoy kicked at a piece of metal frame with his toe. "What's going on here?" Jim stood in the doorway, saying nothing. Leonard pressed it. "How are you supposed to sleep in a bed that isn't put together?"

Jim looked a little abashed. "I kind of don't have the hardware to put it back together." He hedged. At McCoy's exasperated look, he added quickly, "But I was going to stop by the campus store and get a few tools tomorrow."

"What about tonight?"

"I'm sleeping on the couch."

"Except that you're not sleeping." Leonard's frown deepened.

"Like I said: I had some catching up to do."

Leonard sighed. The kid had a knack for making things difficult. "So, what happened to the bed? I'm guessing it didn't disassemble itself."

"Ah, some of the guys did it as a joke." Jim laughed, wandering out of the room, and _goddamn_ Leonard hated when he did that.

"A joke." McCoy repeated flatly, following Jim back out to the couch.

"Yeah. You know, it's something _funny._" Jim was doing an admirable job of making it all sound lighthearted, and maybe Leonard would have bought it if he hadn't known that shit like this was a nightly occurrence for Kirk.

"You're telling me you came back to your dorm after a day of classes and training and you found your bed in pieces. And you thought that was funny?"

Jim sighed heavily, and McCoy had to remind himself that the kid was probably way past the point of exhaustion.

"Did you just come over here to yell at me, Bones?"

Leonard blinked. "I'm not yelling at you."

Jim shrugged. "Guess I can't really tell anymore."

It was McCoy's turn to sigh. He sat down heavily on the couch next to Jim. "You know there's an empty bed at my apartment. If shit like this happens, you can always come crash there."

"I'm seriously okay with it." Jim grinned. "It was like, a sign from the sky, telling me to stay off my ass and get some studying done instead of going to bed."

"Would you have gone to sleep even if your bed wasn't in pieces?"

Kirk glanced at him sharply, then away. "Possibly. Why?"

McCoy raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I got a visit from your roommate earlier tonight. He was looking for me to hand out sleeping pills. You got any idea why that might be?"

"The walls are thin." Jim smiled devilishly. "I guess I may have had one too many noisy midnight rendezvous, if you catch my gist."

Leonard was unimpressed. "That wasn't what your buddy told me."

Jim laughed out loud. "Trust me, Matt's not my buddy. I think he hates me, actually."

"Why?"

"Damned if I know. Does he really need a reason?"

Leonard scoffed. "I swear, kid, you got dropped on your head as an infant."

"Several times." Jim insisted.

"Obviously. Now, are you dodging my question?"

"What question?" Jim was playing dumb. "I heard a whole lot of accusations and not a lot of questions."

This was like trying to sell ice cubes to an Eskimo, Leonard thought distantly. Jim could run him in circles all day, and by the time Leonard left, he would know nothing more than he had when he'd arrived. The doctor let his head fall back until it touched the back of the couch. He'd been spoiled; cadet dorms were downright uncomfortable. He didn't want to sit on this couch for long, let alone spend the night on it.

"Jim." He sighed heavily. "I don't know why I'm going to bother saying it again, but…. you really need to talk to campus security about these guys. I don't think they're going to stick to the 'harmless prank' brand of fun for much longer."

"And I don't know why _I_ bother saying it again, but _you're_ paranoid."

"Age and experience, kid. Maybe you should at least put in for a new dorm room. Transfer in with someone who gives a shit about you."

Kirk laughed. "Bones, _no-one_ gives a shit about me. That's kind of standard Starfleet. No-one's special."

"You're missing my point. Put in for a transfer."

"It won't help." Jim frowned. "Running will just make it worse."

"Running?" Leonard could scarcely believe Jim sometimes. "It's not running. It's protecting yourself from a couple of assholes with more muscle than brains and too much time on their hands. Trust me, Jim. They won't stop."

"They won't stop if I transfer, either." The kid insisted. "If anything, it will just get worse."

"So that leaves you with campus security."

"And getting branded forever as a weak, snitching sellout who can't stand his own ground." That sharp tone was back in Kirk's voice; the automatic defense mechanism that cropped up whenever someone got too close to a sore subject.

"Jesus Christ…" Bones mumbled under his breath. "You're impossible."

Jim grinned, but it didn't look like it was meant to. It looked like relief and exhaustion and hidden meaning.

"Seriously, kid." Leonard waited for Jim to meet his eyes. "If you ever need help or anything, you know how to find me."

"Yeah, I do, Bones." Jim sounded like he was trying to calm down a child throwing a tantrum. "Now will you give it a rest?"

"Sounds like a plan to me." Leonard stretched back on the couch, dropping his head onto the arm and swinging his legs up to rest over Jim's. "Lights, off."

"Hey!" Jim protested as the room went dark. "Remember the part where I'm studying?"

"Hmph." Bones grunted in non-committal, pulling another worn blanket off the back of the couch over his arms.

"Lights, on." Jim called stubbornly.

"Lights off."

"Lights—"

"I can do this all day."

Jim tried to squirm out from under McCoy's heavy legs, but the doctor would have none of it.

Eventually the kid sighed and shut up and McCoy smiled, because he wasn't going anywhere else tonight. That was good enough for him.

.

He didn't remember falling asleep, but he did know that when he woke up, Leonard was seriously regretting ever sitting down on that board of a couch. It felt like every muscle in his body was cramping up at the same time.

Lifting his head groggily despite the incensed protests of the crick in his neck, he looked down at his feet and realized that Jim was still on the couch, Leonard's legs effectively pinning him down. The kid was slumped back on the arm opposite McCoy, stylus still hanging between two limp fingers. His neck was cocked painfully to the right where his head fell against the couch, but he was out like a light.

Leonard couldn't help grinning. Mission accomplished.

Slowly, he disentangled his legs from Jim's arm and stood, wincing in pain as his body cramped up. He was really getting old. Thankfully he was able to extricate himself without waking Jim. Leonard stomach churned a little as he wondered exactly how long it had been since the kid had slept—and how long it would have taken the doctor to notice if someone hadn't walked into his office and _told _him about this.

Sighing heavily and stretching out his spine, McCoy took the opportunity to look around the small apartment. The sun was just rising; its early rays glaring through the blinds had been Leonard's wake-up call.

Even though two college-aged boys lived in the place, it was depressingly empty and bare. Very few personal affects decorated the room, and those that did were all regulation. A pile of regulation laundry sat next to a regulation min-fridge: the cadets didn't get their own kitchens. Inside were three standard-issue cafeteria water bottles and a crumpled empty pizza box.

He knew dorm life was minimalistic, but _shit._ It would only take about half-an-hour to make the place look like no-one had ever lived there.

He walked over and picked up the PADD Kirk had dropped the night before. He scrolled through the most recent documents, hoping he would find some clue about whether or not Jim had class today. The calendar was clear, and several of the documents Leonard tried to access were encrypted.

So much for "catching up", Jim.

Once again, Leonard stopped and forced himself to consider that he might really be pushing his luck here—and his boundaries as a friend. Jim clearly wasn't going to make it easy for McCoy to get to know him. It would be so very simple for the doctor to back off now, let him have his space and his secrets and his lies. That was the theory, at least.

The problem was, Leonard wasn't sure if he could do that anymore.

Sighing, he continued scrolling through Jim's files, knowing the kid would be royally pissed if he learned about this. But he was Jim's friend right now, not his doctor: there was no confidentiality agreement, and to help the kid McCoy had the feeling he was going to have to break some of his own invasion of privacy rules.

Most of what Leonard found on the device was encrypted, or else in ridiculously complex technical jargon of the sort he couldn't even begin to identify. Some of the files were nothing but pages and pages of nonsense numbers. He had to wonder what the kid was into. It looked like programming of some kind.

Finally, he found a copy of the cadet's class schedule. He frowned at it, wondering if maybe he was missing something. It looked at first glance like he was taking a year's worth of classes in one semester. If this was his class load, it was no wonder he didn't sleep. And where the hell did he find time to be out drinking at all hours?

Trying to remember what day it was (hell, Leonard hadn't gotten much sleep, either) he scrolled down and sighed, relieved to find Jim's classes for that day didn't start until ten. The display told him it wasn't yet eight.

Putting the PADD back where he'd found it, Leonard programmed the dorm door for automatic entry and slipped out.

He returned within a quarter of an hour with a bag of hardware from the campus store. Thankfully, Jim was still passed out cold. Leonard wished he could stay that way; it looked like he could use a solid twelve hours rest.

At least McCoy could make sure he got it after his classes.

It took him nearly an hour, a smashed thumb and a litany of colorful curse words, but in the end he was able to put Jim's bed back together and ensure that it was going to be relatively functional. It still didn't look very comfortable, but at least it would hold the thin mattress and Jim, if he ever actually decided to sleep in it.

"Bones?" Looking haggard, Jim yawned in the doorway. "What the hell are you doing?"

Leonard sighed in self-satisfaction, standing. "What does it look like?" He gave the bed a nudge with his foot; it creaked but thankfully did not fall apart.

"You didn't have to do that." Jim stifled another yawn.

"You're welcome."

"Did you stay here all night?"

"What do you think?" Leonard scowled. "Not that I'll make a habit of it. That couch was clearly extracted from a medieval torture chamber."

"You're so _weird_." Jim groaned as he shuffled back out to the living room.

"So I've been told."

Jim plopped back onto the couch to regard McCoy through sleep-hazed eyes. "Don't you have class?"

"For a guy whose bed I just put back together, you sure ask a lot of questions."

"For a guy who crashed on my couch all night, you sure don't have a lot of answers."

Leonard glared at Jim for a long moment; Jim stared back, though his sleep-deprived mind was probably wandering in hazy limbo. Finally, McCoy decided to admit defeat for the day.

"Actually, I don't have class, but you do. So I guess I'll get out of your hair and let you get to it."

Jim grunted in response, watching Leonard as he collected his shoes and jacket. The doctor kept waiting for Jim to say something, but the kid was, as ever, locked down tighter than Fort Knox.

On his way out the door, he paused, and turned back to Jim. "Kid?"

Jim blinked up at him, frozen in his process of sorting through the piles of laundry for a clean shirt.

"Take care of yourself, okay?"

Jim grinned. In the light of day, it was usually a dazzling expression that made the people around him forget what they'd been talking about. Now, it just contrasted too sharply with the bags under his eyes and threw into relief the fact that this strange kid kept a lot of skeletons in his closet and maybe the doctor would never see them.

"Don't I always, Bones?"

McCoy smiled tersely, and pulled the door shut behind him. Sometimes, he really wished that were true.

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Right on schedule! Just for you. So I know the story has been a little mild so far, but fear not: the next chapter kicks the angst back up into high gear. Stick around. ;)

Also, my temp job here ends on Friday, so I will no longer have die-hard office hours to write to my hearts content. So here's hoping I can still manage the steady chapter updates. I am also going to be stepping up from freelancer to work full time as an editorial reporter at the paper here (yay!) so I may be able to slip in some writing time here and there if I'm not too busy. Just thought I'd keep you posted.

**Thomson, Time and Fate, dustykingdom, Loves Jack, moviesaremagic, Harm Marie, alinia1999**: Thanks you for your reviews! You makes me so happy. :)

**ILoveSupernatural**: I know right? Sadly I had to make his roommate an ass. There was no way around it. Well… maybe there was… hm. I'm just mean to Jim, I guess I'll come out and admit it. X] Haha. Glad you're enjoying!

**lynxzpanther**: Thank you thank you thank you! I'm very glad you're enjoying the story, I hope you'll forgive me for sticking Jim with such a total jerk roommate. It's all part of the plot, you'll see. ;) Also, your review on the last chapter made me laugh, a lot. :)

**laynee**: Ohhh, that would drive me crazy having to wait all day to read a new chapter! You're a better reader than I. ;) Thank you, and I'm glad I'm portraying their growing friendship to your satisfaction. :) I know it may seem a bit slow right now to all the hardcore angsters out there, but as you said, I believe a friendship between Jim and Bones would have been a long, painful process full of bumps and frustrations.

**ShamelessSpocker**: Thanks for dropping in, and thanks for your review on Breaking Stride, too! I'm super happy you stuck around to read, and also that you're enjoying it so far. Yes, it is so much fun to write Jim and Bones at this stage. Well to write them at all. They're the best "old married couple" ever. I guess that's why we love them so. ;)

**GingeRed**: Getting such super happy reviews always makes me smile like an idiot. So. Thanks for the smiles. :) It makes me happy that you approve of the developing friendship between our favorite Starfleet cadets, and even happier that you are so wonderfully nice about reviewing.

**spinalcracker**: Haha! Well hopefully this chapter will keep you from exploding. ;) I can't help it, it's in my nature to keep my readers hanging.

**Squigglytext**: Thank you! Yep, it seemed like a Jim thing. A lot of nightmares come from repression and denial, and we know by now that Jim is the master of that. I hope you stick around, it gets even better. ;)

**TipsyTippyToes**: Don't worry, I think you're safe. But you should know that I, for one, do not have your magical ability to control my facial expressions, so now everyone in my office (all three of them) know that I am not sane at all. That's ok, reading your super-happy reviews make it worth it. And yes, I know there wasn't a lot of Jim in that chapter, but it will be the only one like that ( I think?) so I hope the next few will make up for it. :)


	5. Through a Glass, Darkly

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Chapter Five: Through a Glass, Darkly

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"For now we see through a glass darkly, but then face to face; now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known."

I Corinthians

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Leonard managed to go a few days after that without running into a bruised and bleeding James Kirk. In fact, they'd somehow missed each other altogether except for a wave once or twice across a crowded auditorium. Each time, Jim had been standing upright on his own two feet looking understandably tired, but healthy and whole.

Naturally, this was too good to last.

When McCoy was told that a patient had requested him specifically in ER, he suddenly had a sinking feeling that filled up the pit of his stomach all the way up to the emergency sector. He was almost dreading what he would find, mostly because he knew there was only one cadet in the whole academy who frequented the hospital often and who knew him well enough to request him by name.

Unfortunately for them both, he was correct. Leonard rounded the corner to see Jim half-propped up by an orderly, his other hand leaning on the doorframe. He was white as a sheet and barely able to support his own weight. His left knee was wrapped with crude white gauze and bandages, clearly the haphazard findings of some classroom's standard stock first aid kit.

"Hey, Bones." The kid breathed shakily, trying to smile.

"_Shit_." The doctor crossed the room in two strides, shouldering the orderly out of the way to take Jim's weight. "What did you do to yourself this time, kid?" 

"Hand-to-hand accident." The cadet's voice was tense and clipped; he was clearly trying his damndest to hide the amount of pain he was in.

"What, were you sparring with a goddamn rhino?" At Leonard's behest, one of the nurses brought up a wheelchair and helped lower Kirk into it.

"Hi." Jim grinned stupidly at the girl, who smiled back and then promptly left.

"Idiot." McCoy muttered, dropping to one knee to peel away the blood-spotted bandages wrapped around Jim's knee. His lips tightened grimly as he revealed a lumpy, black-and-blue mess of bruised flesh and cuts—and a suspicious looking shard protruding at an odd angle.

"Kid, this is not good." The doctor muttered.

"I figured." Jim sighed harshly. "I'm not an expert in anatomy, but I was pretty sure there wasn't anything sharp sticking out of there before." 

"Good assessment." Leonard was trying not to let his worry bleed into irritation; trying to keep his over-worked mind from jumping to conclusions because _who the hell_ got this kind of an injury from faculty supervised combat training?

"This is McCoy, I need a surgery room prepped." Leonard buzzed in to the nurse's station. "As soon as possible, actually."

"I'm not really going to need surgery, am I?" For the first time, something that could easily be interpreted as fear flashed across Jim's face. It was there and gone so fast that McCoy couldn't be sure he'd seen it at all, but it definitely raised questions in his mind.

"Jim, _look_ at it." McCoy scowled. "What did you think, we'd slap a band-aid on there and ship you back out?"

"Bones, I have class—"

"They'll live without you. Besides, I may be wrong, but I think "in surgery" qualifies as an excused absence these days."

"Bones!" The kid clearly wasn't going to give up that easily. "I thought you of all people would understand; I can't be here."

"What the hell does _that _mean?" Leonard glared at the kid. "It's not like you've bothered to explain your reasoning to me, so as far as I'm concerned you're just another patient in need of immediate treatment before your bone _sets_ like that and you're booted out of command track because you can't fucking _walk_ anymore."

Jim swallowed hard, hands still locked in a white-knuckled grip around his leg, just above the knee. "Seriously Bones." He was trying to do that light-hearted laugh thing again, trying to play it off.

"Don't even start." Leonard pointed a threatening finger at him.

Looking slightly sick, Jim shut up. Maybe that was because he was in too much pain to talk anymore, but either way it was effective.

Preparing the hyospray he had been too irritated to administer a few minutes before, Leonard sprayed it into Jim's neck without asking permission. He easily ignored the predictable protests this action brought and prepared another for pre-surgery dose.

"Bones!" Jim gasped, face white. "You can't give me any more of those."

"Yeah, why's that?" Leonard aimed another at the kid's neck, but Jim was faster and caught his wrist.

"Seriously, you'll accidentally kill me or something. Do you want that on your conscience?"

"You have ten seconds to explain yourself." 

"Allergies." Kirk admitted, his breathing labored.

"To what?" 

"Everything."

"Oh for the love of…" Sighing, McCoy paged a nurse to bring him Jim's medical file. The kid looked even more panicked at that.

"Okay, Bones, how about we just get this whole surgery thing over with? You're making this complicated."

"Complicated?" Leonard couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd always known the kid was odd, but this? He threw up his hands incredulously. "Well _excuse_ me if one of us needs to get things done by the book around here; we weren't all blessed with such earth-shattering charisma that we can just speak and the world obeys our every command. There's paperwork and protocol kid, and like it or not you get to sit through every minute of it, and then you get to go into surgery, and then you get to explain where you _really_ came up with that knee injury." He paused to think about his own words. "Well, maybe not quite in that order."

"Doctor McCoy, surgery is prepped for the patient." The female nurse returned with several sheets of paper.

"Thank you." He tried not to sound too gruff as he snatched them from her.

Jim watched Leonard tensely as he quickly sifted through the papers.

He scowled at the kid. "What is this, some kind of a joke?"

"What?" Jim sounded nervous.

"Over half your file is marked confidential."

Jim shrugged, and maybe McCoy had an imagination but he could swear that he looked a little relieved. "At least the allergy stuff is there."

Leonard had the irrational urge to throw down the papers and make a leap for Jim's throat right then and there. Never in his life had he met someone half as infuriating as this stupid boy.

"Nurse Watson, let's get him into X-Ray." He called instead, his voice dripping ice as he refused to look at Jim.

"_Please_, Bones."

Jim's voice should have broken him right then and there, but he was past the point of anger. Instead, McCoy calmly prepared a sedative—one of the few the kid wasn't allergic to—and injected it into Jim's neck without further ado.

He tried not to let the expression on Jim's face haunt him as he wheeled him back out and down the hall.

.

Several hours later, Leonard McCoy sat alone, his elbows on his knees in the darkness of the X-ray review room. The light from the backlit board provided the only illumination in the shadowed office.

He hadn't noticed it until after the post-surgery x-ray. The first scan had shown him what he'd already known; that Jim's knee looked like it had been run over three or four times by a bulldozer. The final scan after he'd gotten the kid out of intense restorative surgery had showed the improvement he'd expected, and something else.

Above and below the knee, clearly visible on both the tibia and the femur were the evidence of long-healed breaks and fractures. Multiple. Dumbfounded, McCoy had ordered a full body scan without really thinking about the consequences of what he might find.

He was sure as hell thinking about those consequences now.

At first, he hadn't really been sure what he was looking at. He'd almost asked the tech crew if there was something wrong with the machine, because there just wasn't anything he could think of that could account for results like that.

Because according to the evidence on Leonard's hands, damn near every bone in Jim's body had been broken at some point: most several times. Hairline fractures, long since improperly healed, decorated the marrow and bone structure like mazes.

Leonard found himself in shock as he tried to let the implications of these results settle in. He hadn't officially filed the scans yet. He didn't intend to until he had a very long talk with Jim about what he had discovered. Right now, he was more concerned with working through his own haywire emotions. He felt so many different things. He felt sick to his stomach, like had had been sucker-punched by a Romulan. He felt angry that Jim had been keeping something like this—whatever _this_ was—from him, and horrified and _so angry_ that someone or something had so deeply wounded this harmless kid, however far in the past. He felt helpless, because for all of his skill and knowledge and his two damn college degrees, he had no idea what to do now.

On the other hand, he felt a little more like some of the missing pieces from Jim's life and behavior were starting to fall into place, albeit slowly. Little things like the kid's natural bent to deflect emotion and his wariness of getting close to people were beginning to make a little more sense.

This much was clear: Jim had been through hell in the past, and whatever demons he'd met there still had him in their clutches.

Sighing heavily, McCoy ran a hand through his hair. He didn't even know where to start with this. The kid was still out cold in the next room, and he looked more peaceful swathed in artificial unconsciousness than he ever had sleeping.

Leonard had the irrational wish that Jim could stay there: happy and unaware in blissful limbo. It was becoming all too clear that reality held no comfort for him.

A soft knock on his door broke him away from these musings. Standing wearily, he slipped the x-rays back into the folder and called for the intruder to enter.

The door opened, but no-one spoke so Leonard turned with a frown.

"Captain Pike?" He was surprised and a bit alarmed to see the captain standing in the doorway of the dark room.

"Doctor." Clad in his academy instructor uniform, Pike cut an impressive figure as he entered.

Clearing his throat, Leonard nervously straightened his wrinkled white coat. "What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I came by to check in on Cadet Kirk." Pike's eyes dropped meaningfully to the file where Leonard had set it on the counter nearby. "I'm glad to hear he's emerged from surgery without complications. Although as his attending physician, I'm sure you have some questions about his medical file."

"That's an understatement." McCoy was trying to be courteous, professional, and respectful—after all, he was still a cadet, and Pike was a decorated Captain. But he was very much on the edge of his patience with this whole situation.

Pike sighed softly, and suddenly McCoy had the sudden realization that he _knew_.

And for some reason, that made his blood boil.

"So are you going to give me some answers, or am I going to have to petition Starfleet for a confidentiality waver?" The doctor snapped testily.

"Most of those answers aren't mine to give." Pike lifted his chin. Thankfully he was taking Leonard's blatant disregard for protocol in stride. "Doctor McCoy, correct?"

Leonard nodded, too angry for words. At least, words that wouldn't get him suspended.

"Jim's mentioned you."

"Yeah, well he hasn't mentioned you. At least, not past the part where you hauled his ass out of trouble in Riverside."

Pike frowned. "You two are close?"

Leonard laughed at that. "If you could call it that. Like I said, he doesn't tell me much."

"Hopefully that will change." The captain smiled slightly. "He could use a friend, especially one like you, I'd imagine.

_And what the hell does that mean?_ Leonard stopped himself from blowing up. He needed to stay calm.

"So are you going to clear me for medical access, or what?"

"No." Pike correctly interpreted Leonard's expression. "For Jim's sake, and for the sake of your relationship with him, I believe it's something he needs to tell you willingly. Hopefully you can understand that."

"So why did you come here?" Leonard growled. He understood what Pike was getting at, but it didn't make him any less angry about it.

"I was good friends with George Kirk, Jim's father." Pike sighed. "I have a strong interest in seeing Kirk succeed here."

"How's that going for you?" 

The Captain almost laughed. "You're around him more than I am. How do you think it's going? The kid's stubborn."

Leonard snorted. "You've got that right."

"I wanted to make sure that Jim was staying out of trouble." Pike picked up the dreaded file and thumbed through it without looking too shocked. "He won't come out and say it, but I've been getting the impression lately that he isn't being made particularly welcome here."

"He won't talk to me about that, either." McCoy admitted. "Insists it's all in the name of good clean fun, and all that. He's a closed book."

"I thought as much." Pike set the file back down, looking thoughtful. He fixed keen gray eyes on the doctor once more. "I've been looking into the 'practical' jokes going on around campus for some time. If it gets any more serious, or if you happen to get anything solid on these students, I ask that you come to me personally."

"Yes, sir." Finally, Pike was saying something that Leonard was glad to hear.

Nodding, Pike headed for the door. He paused with his hand on the knob. "Doctor?" 

Leonard turned back toward him.

"I don't think I need to warn you that if you happen to talk to Cadet Kirk about any of this, he's not going to take it very well. It'll get a lot worse before it gets any better."

"I figured as much." Leonard set his jaw grimly.

Pike smiled. "Good luck."

McCoy watched him leave, a new determination burning in his gut.

This time, no charming smile was going to help Jim Kirk escape from the questions that his doctor had for him. Not by a long shot.

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Thank you for all your reviews last chapter! You made my day (er, week). :) :)


	6. Two Steps Back

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Chapter Six: Two Steps Back

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"Tell your friend a lie. If he keeps it secret, then tell him the truth."

- Unknown

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Somehow, Leonard felt it: that brief moment of complete stillness just before Jim Kirk woke up.

The cadet stared blearily at the ceiling for about half a second, and then his whole body tensed up like he'd just been electrocuted.

"Jim?" Leonard rose and shot to his side, one calming hand coming to rest on Jim's chest.

"Bones?" Kirk gasped, looking shaken and disoriented.

"You're in the hospital." Leonard told him calmly. "Its not uncommon for patients coming out of heavy sedation to experience some confusion."

Jim's eyes darted wildly from side to side, around the room, never resting on one place for more than a moment.

"Seriously, Jim." Leonard sighed. "It's okay. You're out, your done, there were no complications… you're okay."

Kirk was breathing out in controlled measures, tension thrumming through his body.

"Talk to me." The doctor demanded, getting nervous.

"Yeah." Jim almost-smiled, "I'm here."

"You okay?"

"Yeah."

"You don't look like it." McCoy rose to bring the kid a glass of water. "Just confused?" He asked suspiciously as he helped him drink it.

"Sure."

"Jim, you've got to talk to me here. I can help you out."

Jim laughed. "Thanks, Bones, but I don't think that's actually going to happen."

"For the love of—you weren't in heart surgery or anything; it was a goddamn knee procedure. What are you so worked up about?"

"Nothing." Jim was still breathing in rhythm, or at least trying his best to. "I'm fine."

Leonard glared at him.

Catching the glance, Jim swallowed. "Not a big fan of hospitals." He hedged.

"Uh huh." The doctor nodded sarcastically. "By not a big fan, you mean they induce panic attacks?"

The cadet scowled at the doctor. "Don't you have someone else to be tormenting?"

"Actually no. Not at the moment."

Sighing heavily, Kirk screwed his eyes shut. "So are you at least going to tell me how the knee's doing? When I'm going to get out of here? Something official?"

"I am being official. I'm making sure that you don't hurt yourself any more than you already managed to. And your knee will be fine if you keep off it, stay medicated, and make your checkup appointments." He eyed the kid when Jim didn't answer. "You're not going to have a problem with any of that, are you?"

Jim shook his head on the pillow, just enough to make Leonard happy.

"Good. Now, I have some paperwork for you to fill out."

.

Making a rare attempt at sensitivity and tact, Leonard waited until Jim had been dismissed from the hospital with a pair of crutches and strict orders to stay off his knee before he attacked.

"Jim?" He called as he entered the tiny dorm. He set down his brown bag on the half-bar next to the door that served as the only table-like surface of the room. The bag contained a good bottle of scotch of the variety likely to loosen lips and calm tempers and was most definitely not allowed in cadet dorms.

"In here."

McCoy followed the voice into Jim's small room. He was satisfied to see the kid spread out on his bed, splinted leg propped up on a pillow and crutches in the corner.

"Well, what do you know. Your place is in one piece this time. Glad to see you're kicking back." Leonard pulled up the blinds on the one tiny window. "Its about time."

Jim winced a little at the brightness that flooded the dark room. Even though it was overcast and drizzling outside, the cloud canopy still reflected a surprising amount of light.

"You feeling alright?" McCoy slid down to sit against the wall across from Jim's bed. The room was so small that his boots still hit the bed frame.

"Yeah." Jim grinned tiredly. Leonard's suspicious look prompted more of a confession. "My head hurts a little."

"That may be a side effect of the medication. Drink lots of water and I'll get you a painkiller later."

Jim smiled. "Don't worry about it, Bones. Nothing a little R and R can't handle."

McCoy sighed. "You're not back to classes yet, are you?"

The cadet scowled. "No. I tried to; Professor Dunbar kicked me out. Said she'd send me the homework assignments and that I'd better not show my face for at least another day."

McCoy grinned widely. "Always knew I liked her."

A snort. "Only cause she's hot."

"Well, that doesn't hurt."

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Jim went back to his PADD—he always seemed to be glued to that thing—and Leonard quietly watched the reflection of rain from the window trace phantom shadows down the kid's face.

"I've got a good bottle of scotch out on your counter." He suggested after a few minutes.

"What's the occasion?"

"Thought we could talk."

Leonard tried to make it sound casual and unthreatening, but he could see the walls slam up in Jim's mind at the simple suggestion. The kid looked at him strangely.

"We're talking now, Bones."

"I had some specific topics in mind."

Jim was silent for a long time. Too long. His eyes were fixed directly on his reading without seeing the words.

Seeing that the kid wasn't going to offer him anything, McCoy continued on his own. "While you were in the hospital I had some x-rays done. Scans." He watched and waited for a reaction. He was disappointed, and tried to elaborate. "Bone scans, to be exact. They returned some… unusual results."

Jim seemed to have turned into a statue. He hadn't moved a muscle since Leonard started talking.

McCoy sighed heavily. He'd known this wasn't going to be easy, but he really needed the kid to give him something to work with here. "Look, Jim. I'm your friend, right? I'm not going anywhere, and I definitely have no right or reason to judge you. Why can't you just make this easier on both of us and tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Nothing's going on, Leonard."

_Except that you just called me Leonard._

"Don't insult my intelligence, Jim. And don't lie to me."

"I don't know what you think you're talking about, but you should really drop it." Jim warned softly.

"What do _you_ think I'm talking about?"

"Things that are none of your business."

"Come on, kid." Leonard was trying his hardest not to let his frustration leak out. "I'm not stupid. I _know_ something bad happened to you, and I get that it's not easy to talk about—"

Jim sat up so quickly that it took McCoy aback. "You don't _know_ a damn thing."The kid growled dangerously, suddenly intense as a wild animal.

"_So tell me_." Leonard matched him, leaning forward. "Tell me, Jim."

Jim leaned back against the wall hard, laughing a hollow, empty laugh that rang of hurt and betrayal. "Why couldn't you leave things the way they were? We were _fine_, the way we were."

"We weren't." Leonard corrected him. "I always knew there was something—a lot of things—that you were hiding. I care about you, kid, and I want to be able to help you out here. But you're giving me nothing to work with."

"You don't see me sticking my nose into your problems with your family." Jim hissed; Leonard had prepared himself for the play-dirty tactic. "Why can't you stay out of my life?"

"_I'm _not the one who started following a complete stranger around campus because I happened to have a conversation with him once." McCoy fired back. "I didn't barge into your life, if I recall correctly, but I'm sure as hell in it now."

"Well, feel free to leave." Blue eyes were practically icing over with venom.

Leonard was not backing down. He'd already prepared for just about anything Jim could throw at him in this conversation, and he had expect nothing less from the kid. No way in hell was this over.

"Don't think it's going to happen, Jimmy."

Without warning, Jim was off the bed, slamming Leonard to the ground, hands closing around his throat.

"Don't you _fucking_ call me that!" He raged.

Leonard hadn't expected this one.

Automatically, McCoy lashed out, breaking Jim's grip with a strong downward blow. Jim's strikes were weak and blind in his rage and it didn't take long for McCoy to flip him over and pin him on his stomach. The kid still didn't stop thrashing.

Now McCoy was angry, too.

Straddling the cadet and twisting Jim's arm at a painful angle behind his back, he sort of expected the kid to stop thrashing to ease the pain. He didn't.

"Damn it Jim, calm down." McCoy huffed at him. "You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Fuck you." Jim growled. He managed to get his other arm free and throw it backwards, striking McCoy in the ribs.

The Doctor 'oomfed' ungracefully, momentarily losing his grip on Jim's arm. The kid renewed his struggles, half-twisting under Leonard to strike back at him. From there, McCoy was unseated and they wound up in a kicking, punching thrashing tangle of arms and limbs and damnit McCoy _really_ didn't want to hurt the kid, but he wasn't the one in the advanced hand to hand class either, and hell if he was getting his ass kicked by a half-awake cadet in a leg cast.

Jim's fist connected with McCoy's chin hard, and the doctor found himself at a disadvantage as he saw stars for a brief moment. Suddenly on the bottom, the doctor raised both legs and managed to fling Jim back against the wall. The kid's head connected with the bedframe as he fell and there was a sickening 'thunk' that Leonard could _hear_.

"Jim?" His heart jumped into his throat as he knelt, anger all but forgotten and reached out for the kid.

"Don't touch me." Jim slurred, trying to slap the helping hand away. Half-raised on his hands and knees, he blinked wildly as he tried to clear his vision.

"Don't be a moron." Leonard snapped at him, easing the kid back into a more comfortable sitting position. Jim continued to thrash rebelliously, but he was clearly dazed and wasn't able to keep the doctor from carefully lifting his head.

McCoy winced at the generous bump he found on the back of the kid's head. "Sorry." He offered apologetically as Jim blinked at the ceiling.

"Don't… Don't touch me." Kirk repeated fuzzily, still falling back on failsafe defenses.

Leonard sighed, sitting back. His chin ached mercilessly and his ribs were throbbing with what would soon come to be massive bruises, he was sure. He could hardly believe he'd let himself get pulled into something as childish as a fistfight.

"Jim…" He sighed, but the kid was already hauling himself to his feet, clearly a little unsteady.

"Fuck off." Kirk retorted flatly, stumbling out of the room.

Leonard followed, sucking on the cut he had just noticed on his lip. Even half-crippled the kid was damn strong.

"Something—or, I'm guessing, _someone_—broke almost every damn bone in your body at some point in your life." He growled as he faced Jim's turned back. "I know that very few people in your life know that, but I do, and I'm _still here, _Jim. I'm not running and I'm not judging you. I just want you to trust me enough to _admit_ that something happened. Is that so much to ask?"

Jim was silent, still turned away, breathing hard and one hand cradling the back of his head.

Leonard could feel his temper rising all over again. "Goddamn it, I've done everything I could for you! Does our friendship even mean a damn thing, or were you using me like you use everyone else?"

Only silence. Jim's back and shoulders were tight and coiled with—who knew? Leonard had no idea what he was feeling and he was starting to wonder if he should even care.

"You know," the doctor laughed wryly, "I'm probably the one person on this campus who didn't believe all those rumors I've heard about you. But now I'm beginning to think that maybe they're right."

Jim seemed determined not to speak another word to him, and suddenly, that was just fine with McCoy. Storming over to the door, he snatched his unopened bottle of scotch off the bar and reached for the handle. He turned for just a brief moment to look back at Jim, hoping against all hopes that the kid would call him back, apologize, cry, scream—_something_. If he walked out now, he would be leaving their friendship in pieces.

Jim didn't say a word.

McCoy pulled the door open viciously, and left. He didn't look back.

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Obviously, there is a strong language warning for this chapter… but you guys should be used to it by now : )

Sorry for the lack of reviewer responses last week; I kind of posted on the run. I took my streetbike to Denver for a few days- Woohoo. So much fun, but I'm sore as hell now… you wouldn't think sitting on a motorcycle for six hours would make your entire body hurt, but you learn something new every day...

And moving on to things you actually care about: I love you! : )

**frzntears, dustykingdom, Perry, kayenem, Twilightstar7, lynxzpanther, ackeberlynn, Point Me At The Sky, HarmMarie**: You are all amazing. Have I mentioned that? Because I should have. Several times.

**Gingered**: Thank you so very much: that's exactly what I was trying to get across in this chapter. You have to rewrite the rules as you go in a situation like this. Bones has no idea what he's doing, and neither does Jim, but between the two of them they're going to have to figure out a way to trust each other and keep their friendship intact through the tough spots. :]

**Hittocerebattosai**: *stupid grin* You're very welcome. :} Hm, interesting little insight there. I may have to figure out a way to work that in sometime. ;) Thanks for reviewing!

**ShamelessSpocker**: *bows* You're so very welcome, and thank you once again for the kind of review that always puts a stupid happy expression on my face that makes my office-mates look at me funny.

**laynee**: Well it is in existence now. :] You'd better be happy! Hahahaha. (can you tell that I am easily amused? I am.)

**TipsyTippyToes**: I am quite glad that you approve of Pike's appearance; I always felt that he and Jim had to have had some kind of interaction between Riverside and the Enterprise's maiden voyage. This means there is room for shameless fan interpretation, obviously. ;) Thank you for continuing to review! You make me happy. :]

And that's all, folks! Until next Monday, look up the songs **So Long Lonesome** and **Your Hand in Mine** by Explosions in the Sky. They're my best inspiration for this story. :]


	7. Shades of Gray

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Chapter Seven: Shades of Gray

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"Friendship needs no words - it is solitude delivered from the anguish of loneliness."  
>Dag Hammarskjold<p>

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Jim, Bones had come to discover, was a master of avoidance. McCoy never would have thought it possible for someone so dynamic (and someone on crutches, no less) to turn completely invisible overnight. Leonard's automatic reaction to emotional stress was to take that bottle of scotch back to his dorm and make it disappear (possibly one of the many reasons why his marriage had failed) while Jim chose to make himself disappear. In no uncertain terms, the kid was making it abundantly clear that he considered their friendship to be over.

And as time drew on, some days Leonard was fine with that. He could easily recall all the miserable nights of sleeplessness and worry and frustrating conversations and he was sure that he wasn't really going to miss all the hell Jim had put him thorough. Other days, all he could remember were the dozens of time the kid had stayed up late with him to talk him through an impossible study topic or been there to support him when he just needed to go out and drink and forget he'd ever fallen in love and gotten married to the biggest mistake of his life. The fact of the matter remained: forgetting someone like Jim Kirk just wasn't easy. Especially after the doctor had become so deeply entrenched in the kid's life. Leonard would be going about his everyday life and suddenly remember a joke or a grin or (worse) those three hulking cadets who were out to put Jim in the hospital and experience a flash of worry and the irrational need to call in to check on the kid. Until he remembered that Kirk probably never wanted to see him again, and that he should mind his own business because if there were any way to make matters worse, he was sure he would find it.

It seemed very much like this was going to be the end of it.

News started buzzing around campus a little before midterms: _someone_ was going to make an attempt at the Kobayashi Maru, an infamous training simulator designed to test the mettle and skill of aspiring Starfleet commanders. The last attempt had been made several years ago, or so the rumor went. A senior cadet had descended into depression after miserably failing the training simulator and had ultimately been dismissed from the academy.

No-one had ever taken the test earlier than their third year, but Leonard had a good idea who was going to be taking it this time.

He was right.

He contemplated joining the throng of cadets that flocked to the training stadium to wait at the entrance, listening with bated breath for the results of the test. He felt inclined to show his support for the kid, despite what they'd been through, but Jim didn't need it, and he certainly wouldn't want it.

McCoy walked back to his dorm in silence.

He found out the next day that although Jim Kirk had lasted sixteen seconds longer than the record-holder, in the end, he had failed the test. Just like every other cadet who had ever taken it, and it was nothing to be ashamed of, and he had been highly commended by the instructors for his skill and strategy.

Leonard knew that despite all of that, the kid was probably taking it extremely hard. Worse still was the nagging thought that he was smiling and laughing about it and there was no-one there at all for him to talk to because James Kirk didn't talk to people and he sure as hell didn't _need _anyone.

For the millionth time, the doctor contemplated trying to talk to Jim again. But he had tried before, he continually reminded himself, and been nearly choked to death for his efforts (and damn but he'd felt those bruised ribs the next morning). He'd _tried_ damnit, and Jim hadn't. That just went to show what Leonard meant to the kid.

It wasn't until he was cresting his second week of Jim-free misery that something came along dramatic enough to shake him out of his stubborn stupor.

It was a Wednesday: mid-week, mid-bustle, mid-panic. Midterms were upon them and every cadet in sight seemed to be a human frenzy of bundled papers and flashcards and pencils. No-one walked anymore. They ran, or jogged, or sat on the nearest steps and sobbed uncontrollably because they just knew they were going to fail and flunk out of the academy and be a disappointment to everybody, etc., etc. Half-the-time Leonard was sorely tempted just to find a closet or something to hide in it until it was all over. It wasn't his fault most of the kids here hadn't made proper time to study, so he shouldn't have to suffer for it by being subjected to their noise and panic and mood swings.

It was at about this time, as he sat alone in the cafeteria wishing above all things that he were in a nice, quiet bar somewhere having a tall drink, that unbidden memories of his former drinking partner began to spring to mind. Almost against his will, his mind began replaying words and conversations he'd had with the kid, and not for the first time, he deeply regretted ending things the way they had.

Almost at the same moment that this notion crossed his mind, a familiar face flashed across his line of vision. It took him a moment to remember who the cadet was, and then he was shooting after him without a second thought.

Making a beeline across the room, cutting through tables and earning more than one annoyed glare, he ambushed Matt Conroy at the end of the food line.

"Hey." He stopped Matt in his tracks. "Where's your roommate?"

"Don't ask me." The cadet spread his hands. "I'm not his keeper. Besides, I transferred to a new dorm last week." He grinned, and stepped back into the throng of passing students.

Leonard watched him leave with a frown. He tried to remember when the last time really was that he had seen Kirk—the kid was making himself scarce as it was, but during the last week it really seemed like he'd completely vanished. He hadn't seen him in any of his usual classes, or at meals, or even in passing. Not the briefest glimpse or the most distant snatch of conversation, which was hard to accomplish when you were on crutches. Of course, that could easily be written off to cramming for Midterms, or a crowded class schedule, or one of a dozen other things.

But somehow, deep in the pit of Leonard's gut, the knowledge that the kid was completely alone right now sparked a feeling of dread and anxiety that he couldn't ignore. At least Matt, as much of a prick as he was, might've stepped in if he found the kid bleeding out on the floor. Right now, he had nobody.

This thought brought on a much larger realization, and Leonard felt his heart sink. Jim was an expert at pushing people away. It was obvious that he made a daily habit of the practice, doing just what he had done throughout his whole life. Anyone who came close—and the closer, the worse it was—suddenly found themselves in the crosshairs of all of Jim's screwed-up defense mechanisms. It was like he wired every potential relationship to self-destruct just so he could avoid getting hurt in the future. Strike first to avoid the pain. He had done it to everyone else, and he had done it to Leonard.

And the doctor had let him.

"Goddamn it, Jim." Leonard muttered. He glanced down at his communicator. A blinking screen told him it was nearly six. His last class for the day started in twenty minutes, but he could afford to cut. The professor wasn't testing until Friday, and it might be the first time he'd missed.

Decided, he shoved the books under his arm into his sagging messenger bag and shouldered his way back through the crowd toward the cafeteria doors.

They'd definitely toed the edge of the abyss this time, but Leonard had a feeling he and Jim were far from through.

.

"Jim?" McCoy sighed. He stood in front of the same gray door where he'd stood two short weeks before, but this time it was not set to grant automatic entry and remained firmly shut. He'd had a feeling it wouldn't be that easy, but he could always hope.

Rapping his knuckles on metal again felt a lot more comfortable than pressing the small gray buzzer beside the control console. McCoy had always been a little old-fashioned that way.

"Come on, Jim." Leonard tried his hardest not to let the gnawing anxiety he was feeling creep into his voice. It was too early to start assuming the worst, or so he told himself. "I know you don't want to see me right now—maybe ever—but I also know you're in there… and we really need to talk."

Pressing his ear to the door in a very undignified way, Leonard held his breath as the roaring silence greeted his ears. He was hoping no-one came up the corridor and found him there; he would have a very difficult time explaining his methods or motives to campus security.

"The things I do for your stupid ass…" He grumbled to the door. Just was he was about to pull away in defeat, he caught a faint sound from within.

"Kid?" He tried again.

The sound came again; it was unmistakably the sound of a PADD spitting out a garbled recording. Kirk had never been the type to need study aids like that, but you never knew with people.

"You okay in there?"

Silence, save the occasional buzz of indistinguishable recorded audio.

Damn, he wished the punk would say something. And that furtive wish caused his mind to jump to the possibly inaccurate conclusion that maybe the kid physically _couldn't_ say anything, because maybe he was sick or dying or those damn punks who'd been on his ass for the last year had finally caught up to him and made good on their threats.

"Look." Swallowing, this time Leonard couldn't keep the stress out of his tone. "I know you're there, so the silent treatment really isn't going to do anything for you. But you've been skipping appointments for that knee of yours and as your attending physician, I am well within my rights to use a medical override here. So you can open the door, or I can open it myself."

Letting his threat hang was sadly ineffective. He tried again. "This is your last warning, Jim."

His fingers were reaching for the console before he was finished speaking. Call him paranoid, but he was pretty sure that the James Kirk he knew would be more willing to argue with him than sulk in his room quietly. The kid had better be in one piece, or so help him—

The door slid open quietly and Leonard stumbled into a pitch black apartment.

"Jim?" His voice didn't echo as it had out in the corridor; it fell flat and cold. It took some time for his eyes to adjust as he carefully stepped towards the wall.

"_Weapons offline. Main power at 38%."_

The sudden blare of static made Leonard jump in the darkness. A fuzzy recording was still playing from somewhere in the deeply shadowed room, but it was too dark for the doctor to figure out where it was coming from.

"Lights, on." He called.

The computer answered him. "Lights disabled."

Leonard cursed to himself. He should have known. Jim didn't let anyone get the jump on him twice.

"_They're firing another— All power to forward shields—-"_

"Kid, I can't see a thing." McCoy swallowed, trying to peer into the dark corners with the help of the light from the door behind him. "I know you're royally pissed and damn, you've got every right to be…. But you're gonna have to help me out here."

"_Sir stabilization has been lost."_

"_Are shields even up?"_

Leonard gulped uncomfortably. What the hell was the kid listening to?

Hands outstretched, he grasped the counter of the small half-bar to his right. It curved around into a small alcove where a kitchenette was theoretically possible, but cadets didn't get their own perks unless they paid for them and most didn't—or couldn't. In Jim's dorm, it served as an odd empty space one or both of the cadets often used as a study area. Make that just Jim, now.

"_Decks 17 and 13, we have confirmed casualties. 11% and dropping. 10%. Shields at 9% and dropping."_

"_Goddamn_, this is creepy." The doctor griped. Stretching out one arm, he was just inches away from reaching a manual light switch he remembered being above the bar when his foot connected with something solid and he was pitching forward.

He landed on the floor with an undignified yelp he would definitely deny later. Groaning, he stayed where he was and groped carefully across the floor to find out what he had hit. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his fingers touched a warm body.

"Jim?" Straining in the darkness, he thought he could just make out a dark form slumped against the wall.

"Jim, if you're alive, you're going to need to let me know. Because otherwise I'm going to freak out and medical and security and everyone will be down here in about sixty seconds flat."

The body shifted, just slightly, and Leonard was able to release the breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Go'way, Bones." The mumbled voice was scarcely higher than a whisper, but it brought waves of relief crashing down on McCoy's shoulders.

"Fat chance." Leonard's voice was shaky as he eased himself into a more comfortable position next to the kid, fingers traveling upwards to find a pulse on Jim's neck. "What's the matter with you?"

"Nothing." Kirk tried and failed to swat the doctor away.

McCoy heard the clink of glass and intercepted Jim's arm as he tried to raise a bottle of some kind to his lips.

"If your current state is any indication, I think you've had quite enough of that."

"_Bravo 6 maneuver fire, full spread!"_

"_I'm initiating general order 13, we're evacuating!"_

"What the hell are you listening to?" Leonard pried a mostly-empty bottle from Jim's stubborn fingers.

"Leave me alone, Bones." A sound suspiciously like a sniffle reached the doctor's ears, and he froze.

"Kid…" He breathed, stomach in knots. "Are you okay?"

"_Autopilot function has been destroyed. Manual operation only."_

"Get out."

"Not happening." McCoy easily dodged the alcohol-slowed arms that moved to push him away. He reached out for Jim, finding his arms, shoulders, his face. His hands traveled to a warm forehead and down to tear-moistened cheeks.

_Jesus Christ._

"Oh, Jim." He sighed. "I'm sorry."

Just one nudge, just one broken moment like that—and suddenly Jim wasn't resisting him anymore. He went limp, letting McCoy pull him into his arms. He was shaking with quiet, shuddering sobs, pressing his face into Leonard's shirt. He was wrapping his arms around him, clutching him like his life depended on it.

"It's okay, it's okay." Leonard held him as tight as he could, swallowing the kid in his arms. "Shh, Jim. I've got ya." The kid was drunker than hell and probably had no control over his actions right now but Leonard couldn't help feeling that this was the most real he had ever seen him. And he had never been very good with words (he had a failed marriage and an estranged daughter to prove that) so all he could do in response was mutter nonsense words and soothing sounds and try to communicate through body language alone that he wasn't _going anywhere_ and he _wasn't giving up_ on James Kirk.

The garbled transmission, clearly years old, continued to buzz through the disembodied speakers from somewhere in the room.

"_George, the shuttle's leaving. Where are you?"_

"_Sweetheart, listen to me. I'm not gonna be there."_

Christ in heaven. Leonard really hoped this wasn't what he thought it was.

"_No."_

"_This is the only way you'll survive."_

"_George, I can't do this without you."_

Leonard didn't know when it had started, but he realized with a start that his own face was wet with tears now. Sorrow he couldn't contain streamed down his cheeks, dripping into Jim's hair. He couldn't believe what he was listening to, couldn't wrap his mind around it.

"_It's a boy."_

"_A boy? Tell me about him."_

"_He's beautiful."_

"God, Jim." Leonard was shaking. "Please, _please_ turn it off."

"I can't—it's my dad." Jim's voice was rough and punctuated with painful sobs. "I can hear him."

"Turn it off, Jim. Don't do this to yourself."

"_Let's name him after your dad. Let's call him Jim."_

"Kid." Leonard begged, burying his face in Jim's back.

"_Sweetheart can you hear me?"_

"_I can hear..._

"_I love you so much. I love you!"_

Static cut off the last word, and a soft white noise reigned supreme in the dark room. After a long, agonizing moment of this, the device ended the recording with a soft beep.

"End of transmission." The PADD informed. "File 217, USS Kelvin final communications log entry. Class: Confidential."

Jim said nothing, and Leonard said nothing. The kid was still a drunk, sniffling mess in his lap, and McCoy couldn't blame him. He didn't know what had possessed the cadet to put himself through this kind of mental torture, but it had shaken the doctor to the core and he could only guess what kind of effect it had had on Jim. He pulled the trembling figure closer, trying to will strength into someone he had never seen so human. Finding out one that one of the strongest supporting pillars of your life was this fragile was not an easy pill to swallow—and even though Leonard had jumped with both feet into this mess he found that as usual, he had no idea what to do next.

After a very long time of sitting there, holding his face against Jim's shirt and trying to calm himself down enough to actually be some semblance of helpful, Leonard knew he had to say something.

"Jim. You okay?" It was a lame thing to ask, but he had to break the silence somehow.

Jim laughed; the doctor could only tell because his body shook slightly. Clearly, he thought it was lame too.

"Why the meltdown, kid?" Bones searched out the kid's face, prying him away from him. He was still crying; still pretending he wasn't. "What got into you?"

"You won't get it, Bones." Jim mistook Leonard's movements and pulled away, that stupid fight or flight tendency always present.

McCoy caught his wrist and kept him there. "Try me."

A torn whisper that betrayed the lie. "Bones, I'm okay."

"Kid, it's _long_ past time to drop the bullshit. There's nothing to hide anymore. I'm here, I'm not going anywhere." The doctor clasped Jim's tear-soaked face in both hands, shaking him gently, willing him to understand. "I will sit on this goddamn floor with you until the world ends if that's what you need. But I'm _not_ walking out that door again."

Jim's hands came up to cover his own, and he couldn't disguise another ragged sob as it tore it's way free.

"You should get out while you can, Bones." Jim sounded so much like a lost child just then that Leonard had to swallow to keep his own voice steady.

"Bull. Now are you going to tell me why you're sitting in the dark here, torturing yourself with that transmission?"

Jim laughed, or maybe he was crying still. It was impossible to distinguish in the dark. He was silent for a very long time, but Leonard didn't let him go. If being here physically, willing his strength through to Jim was the only way he could help, then damn it he was really going to be here until the sky fell down around them. And even then, he would hold on until his bones disintegrated.

"It's today." The kid's soft voice was barely audible when he finally, _finally_ cracked, his words spilling out in ragged chunks. "You know... It's today. I was born today. He died. Today."

"It's… your birthday?"

"You could say that."

Leonard's heart clenched painfully; the sheer agony threatened to stop his breath in his lungs. "You don't have to remember it this way, you know." His rational, logical words sounded empty and flat and _so_ _useless_. "You can move on. Make your life your own."

"I want to, Bones." Body limp with exhaustion, Jim dropped his forehead onto McCoy's shoulder. "But… It's all they talk about."

Leonard didn't need to ask who. The destruction of the USS Kelvin wasn't exactly a secret: George Kirk had been a hero, and the day of his death had long ago been declared a Federation Day of Memorial. Obviously, no-one had given a shit about the kind if impact that publicity would have on the Kelvin's youngest survivor.

"Jim." Leonard sighed, wrapping his arms around the kid once more and dropping his forehead onto his head. "It's not the day your dad died. It's the day that you survived. That's what it means to me."

"Why are you even here?" The kid breathed. "After the way I've treated you…" 

"You've heard all about my ex-wife." The doctor snorted. "I don't think you could treat me much worse."

Kirk laughed softly, hopelessly. "I think I already bumped her out of first place."

"Not a chance." Leonard smiled, nestling his chin into Jim's sunlight-colored hair, letting him avoid eye contact if that was what he really needed. "I was an ass to push you like that." The doctor admitted quietly, selfishly glad to have a chance to get the burden that had been building for weeks off his chest. "An insensitive, selfish ass."

Jim snuffled into the doctor's shirt; it sounded suspiciously like laughter.

"Fine, scoff at me, you little prick. I guess I deserve it." Leonard tried not to smile. "Just don't expect to hear it again."

"You can't apologize while I'm drunk, cheater." Leonard could feel Jim smiling. "You've got to say it again when I'm sober."

"Over my dead body. Besides, you're definitely the most coherent drunk I ever met."

"You say the sweetest things."

"…you sure you're drunk?" 

"Positive. Cause I'm admitting that I was an ass too."

"Yep, you're drunk." Leonard looked down at the bottle he'd taken from Jim—it definitely wasn't any variety of Terran alcohol he was familiar with—and after only a moment of deliberation, took a long swig. It wasn't half-bad really, but it did kick like a mule.

"I'll tell you everything, Bones." The cadet sighed at last, long and heavy. "I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

McCoy felt himself freeze, alcohol sloshing loudly in the bottle. "Kid…" He began, "Do you even know what you're saying right now?"

"Probably not." Jim finally extricated himself fully from the doctor's grip and slowly leaned back against the wall. He slumped with a heavy breath, pulling his hands through his hair and down his face. He wiped roughly at his tear-streaked chin, his hands blurry shapes in the shadows.

"You might regret this tomorrow." The doctor felt inclined to inform him, even though his mind was screaming at him to just shut up and not scare the kid into changing his mind. 

Even in the semi-darkness, to which his eyes had become partially adjusted by now, Leonard thought he could make out the breathtaking blue of Jim's eyes.

"Don't make me regret it, Bones."

"I won't." The words were as much of a promise to Jim as they were to himself. "And I wouldn't make you relive this shit if I didn't believe it could help you. You know that, right kid? I just want to help you."

"Yeah, Bones." Jim gripped Bones' hand hard; the thin digits were shaking lightly, betraying that stupid brave front. "I know."

Breathing in shakily, Leonard steeled himself. He didn't release Jim's arm. "Then tell me about the fractures. Stop when you need to."

The cadet's chin dipped to his chest. He took several deep, calming breaths and looked back up at Leonard.

Swallowing, his words came out in a whisper. "Have you ever heard of Tarsus IV?"

-0-0-0-0-0-

.

.

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Oh! Yes, I went there. You didn't think I would, did you? That's okay; I didn't think I would either. As you might have guessed from that last line, I'm not going to make a big scene out of it. There are more than enough stories out there filling in that part of Jim's past that do it far more justice than I ever could, so I think I'm going to let it lie for now. Maybe I'll dig it back up some day in the future, but… I… I'll stop rambling now. :] That was a stupid-hard chapter to write so, you should tell me what you thought. Did I do our boys justice? I hope so.

Another FAQ: someone mentioned that mentions of god, religion, etc would have been completely eradicated by the 23rd century. Although I don't really agree (I think it will be impossible for anything, technology, global advances, or otherwise to completely wipe out every kind of religion all over the world) I will concede the point. However, this story is from McCoy's point of view, and old-fashioned swearing and references just seem more in keeping with his character. I hope that makes sense. :]

On to the good stuff!

Thank you for your super-amazing, goofy-smile, heartwarming reviews, **TipsyTippyToes, Time and Fate, spinalcracker, moviesaremagic, GB Freak1, Thomson, dustykingdom, lynxzpanther, perry, zhen123,** **Harm Marie, ackeberlynn, alinia1999, Aiso-san, Romanse.**

**Twilightstar7**: Hahaha, you are so right—it would be rather difficult for someone (especially our dear Bones) to "oomf" in a graceful manner. Hope this update was quick enough for you!

**Shameless** **Spocker**: I'm so glad you enjoyed—and fear not, I would never leave our boys hanging in such a tragic predicament. : )

**GingeRed**: I pretty much love your novel/review. I definitely read it three or four times, possibly more. I don't think I'm going to end up going into detail about Jim's knee, but there will be other incidents to explain that Bones will not let go quite so easily. I guess you'll just have to keep writing—er, reading! ; )

**laynee**: Hearts and flowers and rainbows! I loves you too. :3 Also, your review may or may not have made me whisper scream "NEW REVIEW!"

**hittocerebatosai**: I just might. ; ) I don't think the story will carry on that long—maybe to about a year or less before the movies picks up. We'll see. : )


	8. Before I Wake

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Chapter Eight: Before I Wake

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"A true friend never gets in your way—unless you happen to be going down."

Arnold H. Glasgow

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Looking back on that night, Leonard would always remember it as four or five (who knew? the alcohol started flowing and time blurred) of the most exhausting hours of his life. Maybe it was the fact that the kid had been dead drunk even before McCoy had arrived, but his tongue was completely loosened for the first time since they'd met and he had spilled his guts to the doctor. Leonard hadn't been able to hear more than a few words before he'd had to hit the rest of Jim's booze stash, but even the alcohol couldn't make him forget the things he'd heard.

Jim told him of a Federation planet McCoy had only heard of in history books: firsthand experiences of men and monsters and the atrocities of which they were capable. As if that weren't enough, he told him of the years before that, of a broken family's misguided anger and bitterness and the vast expanses of loneliness and confusion in which an eight year old child could lose himself completely. He told him of a brother that had abandoned him, a mother who had run, and a step-father whose latent hostility and so called "tough love" had been more damaging to Jim's sensitive nature and desperate need for affection than the brutish man could have ever realized. Jim told him about self-destructive patterns and a headlong plunge into darkness that had been only barely intercepted by a fateful meeting with Captain Pike in a bar in Riverside.

For possibly the first time in his entire life, James Kirk held nothing back.

In the early hours of the morning, tear-stained and exhausted, Jim had passed out on the dorm floor and Leonard had been forced to let him lie there or haul his ass back to bed. For reasons he couldn't fathom himself, he had chosen the latter, pulling a chair into the room to keep watch over the sleeping mess that was Jim Kirk. The alcohol and long hours urged his body to sleep, but his mind was still wading through the dizzying aftershock of everything Jim had told him. So much about the kid's behavior made sense, now.

As Leonard finally drifted off into troubled sleep in his flimsy chair, his mind kept asking him how someone who had been through so much could still be so strong.

.

Like clockwork, Jim fell back into his old patterns within twenty-fours hours. He said nothing at all of his midnight meltdown, choosing instead to ignore the uncomfortable situation and pretend that things were exactly the same between them as they had always been. At least, how they had been before they'd fallen out. He was right back to bugging Leonard night and day, waking him up at all hours and dragging him to obscure bars in the nastiest corners of the city. This default to companionship was the only thing that kept McCoy from wondering if maybe the whole night hadn't been a figment of his imagination. The kid was way too damn good at the whole denial thing.

But now that fact, like so many other things about the infuriating blond, made so much more sense to Leonard. It was still screwy of course, but at least there was method to the madness; a reason he could come up with to explain away the textbook avoidance and paranoia. Jim had spent so long losing himself that now he seemed completely unable to find his way back. Leonard had no idea if he could be any real help at all, but he intended to be there and he definitely intended to try.

Starting with some aggressive intervention tactics.

When Jim found out that Leonard had entered him into the system for a room transfer, citing medical reasons, the cadet was mildly irritated. That is to say, he was royally pissed, and avoided speaking to the doctor for several days.

Leonard kept his mouth shut and stood his ground. Jim might hate him for it now, but he figured the kid would have to forgive him sooner or later. The doctor definitely wasn't going to stand by while his well-being was in danger, especially knowing all that he knew now. It was no wonder Jim didn't think much of his torment; compared to what he'd already been through it probably seemed like typical mild college hazing. Except that every time McCoy remembered back to the shattered mess that had been Jim's left knee (an injury the kid _still_ refused to explain), his stomach twisted and he was reminded of exactly how _not typical_ this was.

For some time, things between them fell back into a state that could almost be considered normal. Jim was buried in classwork, but somehow always managed to be around when the doctor was in particular need of a drink or just a familiar face. Leonard tried to ask him about it, but Jim wouldn't admit that the only way the two were able to see one another at all was because Kirk constantly cut classes or homework, which he would later complete in place of sleeping. Despite having gained the kid's confidence, Leonard still found it almost impossible to get Jim to admit his trouble sleeping or breathe a word against the cadets that still hounded him daily. Putting Kirk in the hospital must have scared them off for a while, considering the kid looked fine for the next several weeks (aside from the crutches, of course) but sadly it was not an effect that lasted long. Eventually the unexplained bruises and mysterious limps resurfaced, much to McCoy's irritation.

In fact, nothing much out of the ordinary happened for nearly a month—at which time Jim stormed into Leonard's room one day with a sheaf of paperwork clutched in one fist.

"What the hell is this?" He scowled at the Doctor.

"I don't know." Leonard answered honestly, staying calm because that was the surest way to piss the younger cadet off. He could admit that he found it darkly amusing when their positions were reversed and Jim was the raging lunatic.

Kirk thrust the papers at him. "I can't _believe_ you would stoop this low. Some detached professional you are."

The kid raged furiously around the room for a minute as Leonard sighed and took the papers from him. The doctor couldn't be one hundred percent certain, but he definitely caught some mumbled references to his illegitimate heritage in there.

"So your transfer finally went through." Leonard smiled as he examined the document. "About damn time."

Jim spun. "Don't even pretend you had nothing to do with this. Pushy, nosy, over-freakishly-involved mother-hen bastard."

McCoy stifled laughter. "I wish I knew what you were talking about—because I'd really love to take credit for it—but other than the transfer request itself I really don't. Which, by the way, you already knew about and already finished hating me for." 

Jim's next curse was in a strange alien language that the doctor was unable to translate. Maybe that was a good thing.

Shaking his head at the kid's confusing tirade, McCoy flipped through the rest of the paperwork, his eyes finally coming to rest on a paragraph on the final page.

Under transfer location, Leonard's own name and dorm number were listed. At the bottom was Captain Christopher Pike's signature.

Leonard threw his head back, and laughed.

.

As was his way, Jim got over his anger at Leonard pretty damn quick.

Even McCoy couldn't have planned the transfer bette—in fact, he had to wonder why he hadn't thought of it himself. Now he could keep a closer eye on the kid without bending over backwards or interrupting Jim's hectic class schedule. True, it was unusual for a command track cadet to be assigned to a medical officer's dorm, but apparently Pike knew what strings to pull. As far as the actual moving was concerned, Jim had a shoebox and a backpack to his name. He swung by his old dorm to pick them up, and it was done. Just like that.

The funny part about having James Kirk as a roommate was that the doctor had expected to be doing a lot more for the kid than he could reasonably expect the kid to do for him. After a week of being roommates, he realized how sadly incorrect that assumption was. Not only did Jim keep the dorm in an obsessively neat state that Leonard could only hope to attain on his own someday, but having the kid around was like having a walking, talking PADD tutor program on twenty-four hour call. The cadet would stroll into the room after eight hours of class and combat training and plop down next to Leonard, who was pulling his hair out studying for a class that was so far out of his comprehension zone that it was like reading ancient Greek. With a sentence or two and a handy study tip, he could make the most complex subject in the world seem like something a second grader should be able to grasp. Half the time Leonard was left in wordless awe at the boy's intelligence, and other times he just wanted to murder him for making him feel like such an idiot.

He was quickly starting to realize that this was just how it worked around James Kirk. If you didn't want to hug him and strangle him at the same time, odds were you didn't really know him that well after all.

Needless to say, rooming with the punk came with its fair share of difficulties as well. The first time Jim woke him up in the middle of the night, Bones was sure his heart stopped. Nothing flings you out of peaceful slumber and into an adrenaline-fueled frenzy faster than the sound of your best friend screaming his lungs out.

"Jim!" Leonard catapulted himself out of bed like the dorm was on fire. He held Jim's arms to his side as he half-knelt on the cot above him, because he knew by now that the kid couldn't be held responsible for his own screwed-up reflexes. He'd been through too much to control them entirely.

Jim's heart-wrenching screams stopped almost as soon as Leonard's hands came into contact with his skin and suddenly eyes bluer than any color known to man were staring into the doctor's. And damnit but Leonard really didn't want to see everything in those eyes because he _couldn't fix it_, and maybe he would never be able to.

So Leonard pulled him forward, before he could freak out or run or smile or lie and just held him; let him bury his face in Bones' shoulder because he knew that the last thing the kid wanted was to have to look into his eyes right now. For the sake of his sanity, Jim needed to feel someone there for him. Not words, not judgment. Just a solid body in his atmosphere that wasn't getting ready to leave him. It had taken McCoy a long time to realize this. He was a doctor; it was in his nature to solve problems and cure ailments. It was hard for him to accept that this was something that wasn't going to go away. It wasn't something he could cure or treat. It was something he had to weather, and that was the most painful part.

Unsurprisingly, Jim breathed not a word about these hellish nights. It was too awkward, too uncomfortable, too painfully deep. It made Leonard's heart ache, but he knew the kid couldn't have made it this far without some kind of coping strategy. If flat-out denial kept him from becoming a sniveling mess every time someone looked at him sideways, then the doctor could be patient and accept that. It wasn't his place to tell the kid how to deal with the skeletons in his closet, but damn if it wasn't tempting to try.

For a good while, concern about keeping their tentatively fragile friendship afloat won out over Leonard's compulsive hatred for Jim's three hulking enemies. He managed to avoid heated tirades on the subject for some time, but this tactic fizzled out completely several weeks into their new roommate-hood, when Leonard returned from class to find that Jim had shed his gym clothes on the living room floor. For most college-aged boys this might not have been a strange event, but it was such a far cry from Jim's orderly habits that it caught Leonard's attention immediately.

Dropping his bag by the door (Leonard did not share Jim's freakish compulsions) he walked slowly over to examine the pile. The sound of running water from the securely shut restroom door alerted the doctor to Jim's whereabouts. One of the few things the two had in common was their preference for the old-fashioned commodities—such as the old shower-heads Starfleet had never bothered to remove from the dorms when they switched over to sonics. Some of the non-human members of Starfleet were unable to use such modern technology, but those that could generally found it faster and more convenient to use the sonic heads anyway. Not Leonard, and apparently not Jim.

Returning his attention to the floor, McCoy found that the white gym t-shirt at his feet was dark and stiff with dried blood. There wasn't a lot there, but it was enough to worry Leonard. Especially with the way the kid tended to hide things.

"Come on, Jim." Leonard sighed, brows creased in worry. Strolling over to the restroom door, he tapped on the panel out of respect for the cadet's over-developed sense of privacy. "You have about ten seconds to get decent, kid."

He could hear the cadet sputtering protests as the water turned off, but if he knew Kirk he was scrambling for a towel anyway.

"Nothing I haven't seen before, you pansy." The doctor griped as he entered, possibly a few seconds shy of ten. He coughed a little as he inhaled a thick cloud of steam.

"That's not the point." Jim sounded irritated. "Just because we live in the same dorm—"

"Seriously, save it." Leonard pointed at the toilet.

"Trying to tell me something, Bones?" Jim's cocky smile hid fear, and that might have been the only reason Leonard didn't smack him over the head. The kid had a white towel wrapped protectively around his waist and his free hand was curled around his ribs. That was enough to set the doctor's alarms off.

"Sit." Scowling, McCoy opened the mirror cabinet and retrieved a standard stock MedKit. Being a doctor, he had naturally made a few necessary modifications to the contents over time, but hey—it wasn't his fault that whoever stocked these things was incompetent.

When he turned around, he was a little shocked to see that Jim had obeyed.

He couldn't resist jabbing as he knelt in front of Jim and gently removed his hand from—whatever was hiding underneath. "What, no World War? No grand jury protests?"

"To be honest," Jim laughed shakily, "It really does kind of sting a little."

"Well, losing all your skin tends to have that effect." Leonard had to swallow rage and hatred and all of those other emotions, because he needed to take care of this first. He could give Jim the third degree later. A generous portion of skin just under the kid's arm had been shorn away, leaving a still-bleeding, oozing mess about the width of the doctor's palm and several inches longer. It was the kind of wound he'd seen on crashed motorcyclists or anyone else who'd had the odd bad luck to get thrown across pavement or gravel for any distance.

He tried not to let the thought that it wasn't exactly the kind of wound you got at a Starfleet academy get to him. He remained outwardly impassive and detached, letting Jim prop his arm on his shoulder as the doctor dabbed at the injury with a sterilizing agent.

"Speaking of world wars." Jim's words were clipped as he tried to fill the awkward silence. As usual, he was doing a damn impressive job of sounding like he didn't want to scream.

Leonard continued his work, waiting patiently for Jim to go on.

"The silent thing is new." The tension was bleeding through Jim's voice. "You trying the 'don't get involved' tactic now?"

"I think I gave that up when you transferred into my dorm room, kid." The doctor sighed, reaching for the med kit. "Maybe this time I was kind of hoping for a little honesty?"

He paused in his ministrations just long enough to catch Jim's eye. The kid looked away quickly. Leonard hated that simple things like this made him so uncomfortable.

"I fell off one of the landings over by the combat gymnasium." Jim said after a long silence.

Leonard tried not to sigh too heavily. "Okay. So, how much of that is true?"

"The part about the gymnasium." Jim laughed a little; it was cut off by a hiss of pain.

"Sorry."

Both men were silent for what seemed like hours. Jim's blue eyes were fixed on some distant spot over Leonard's shoulder, and McCoy buried himself in the technical details of gauze and antiseptic and medical tape. Or at least, he tried to.

"Kid." He sighed quietly, rocking back on his heels as he finished. "What is it that makes you so scared? Why can't you just make your life simple and be honest with me?"

Several unreadable emotions flashed through Jim's startled eyes in quick succession. He stared at Leonard for so long that the doctor started to wonder if there was something wrong with him.

"I've been…" The kid breathed, swallowed, and tried to finish. "I've been…. let down. A lot."

"By people like me." Leonard finished the words that had cost Jim's pride so much. "People who were supposed to be your friends."

"I can admit it, okay?" The words tumbled out in a rush. "I'll admit it, I told you. I don't like people knowing me too well, and I don't like giving anyone power over me."

"Friendship is not about power."

"Well… tell that to every other human on the planet."

Leonard sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Okay. _Okay_. For me, and I hope for you, it's not about power. We can get that established right now. Right?" 

Jim nodded reluctantly.

"So. In the name of honesty and all of that, let's try again. What power of the universe or act of god, or what-have-you, struck you down this time? I'm willing to bet you did a little more than fall off that landing. They do have railings, you know."

Jim looked hesitant. "I might have had a little help. Falling off, that is."

"Uh-huh." Leonard chewed on the inside of his cheek hard to keep himself in check. "And I'm guessing whoever "helped" you also thought that this was funny."

"It's possible."

Leonard found it infinitely frustrating and more than a little painful that this was maybe the most honest Jim had ever been with him. It was a start, but damn if it wasn't a slow one.

"I told you it wouldn't stop." Jim remarked meekly after a moment of studying Leonard's stormy features. "I had a feeling about this."

"Yeah." McCoy stood angrily and jerked an old-fashioned bottle of pills (Jesus Christ, really?) out of the Med Kit. He emptied three into his palm and dropped them into Jim's hand.

"They still use these nowadays?" The kid smiled a little as he looked down at them. He seemed tense.

"Not in my office, but yeah, apparently. Now chow down. I know that's gotta hurt like hell."

Jim said nothing, but did as he was told. To be honest, this quiet, demure version of Kirk was a little unnerving to the doctor. Partly, it made him wonder if it was his fault the kid was acting this way. And partly, it made him wonder if he was up to something.

"You okay?" He asked bluntly when Jim remained seated on the toilet silently, staring at the floor while stray droplets of water continued to run down his neck and face from his wet hair.

"Yeah." Again, the response was far too quiet, too quick and automatic for Leonard's liking.

"Get some rest, then." Leonard left the bathroom and snatched his jacket off the hook by the door, begging silent forgiveness for his bald-faced lies. "I've gotta run down to the… uh, the medical center. I'll pick up some stronger painkillers for you while I'm there."

"You don't have to do all of this, Bones." Jim followed him out. A pair of gym shorts had magically taken the place of the white towel, and he was pulling a shirt over his head. He regarded his friend seriously. "It's not your job to take care of me."

Hand on the door, Leonard paused and looked back. He smiled, even though he didn't want to. "I know."

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The good news: I love you guys, therefore your new chapter update.

The bad news: The next several updates may be delayed due to a multi-week trip back to CA coming up at the end of this week. :( I sorry! I will try to avoid it, but it might happen.

Can't respond to reviews this morning (where does the time go?) but I do read and appreciate every single one—usually multiple times.

Review!


	9. Point of No Return

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Chapter Nine: Point of No Return

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"True friendship is never serene."  
><em>- Marquise de Sevigne<em>

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As it turned out, McCoy didn't stop by the hospital for more than a few minutes to pick up the strong painkillers he'd promised Kirk. He had another destination in mind altogether, and he was on the warpath.

The truth of the matter was, Leonard McCoy was not a violent man. But a certain blue-eyed punk with whom he happened to share a dorm had a frustrating way of bringing out the very best and worst in him, particularly when the kid wandered back to his room injured and confused like a goddamn lost puppy who'd been dropped into a puddle and then kicked into the street and run over by a truck and—well, the picture was pretty pathetic.

And right now the best—or arguably the worst—of him was storming down the main corridor of Cadet Dorm E with one target in mind. Make that three targets. He'd only bothered to do a patient lookup on the first of his three victims, shamelessly abusing his position as a medical professional. As mentioned before, Jim knew how to bring out the very worst in him without even trying.

He was making a determined beeline for Roland Lenot's assigned dorm, but he spotted him in one of the common rooms on the ground floor before he made it halfway there. Making a quick decision (it helped that no-one else was in sight) Leonard walked in and strode right up to him.

"You." He growled at the noticeably larger cadet, who rose to his feet as the doctor approached (and oh shit maybe he shouldn't be doing this).

Leonard stopped directly in front of the man. "You seem like a straightforward kind of a guy, so for both our sakes, I'll spare you the runaround. Leave James Kirk alone."

David Lenot laughed at him—_laughed_ at him—right in his face (and maybe that shook Leonard's confidence just a little).

"Who do you think you are, asshole?" Dark eyes sparkled dangerously as Lenot took a threatening step forward.

This suddenly seemed like a very, very stupid idea.

Leonard tried to keep his voice steady, tried not to betray the sudden nosedive his confidence had taken. "If you don't leave him alone", he swallowed to clear his dry throat, "you won't like the consequences. Trust me. He has some very powerful people on his side." (Did Pike count as powerful? In the tiny bubble-world that was Starfleet Academy, he seemed to, but Leonard was starting to wonder if Lenot would share that view.)

"Like you?" The voice came from behind him, and Leonard didn't have to turn around to know that Lenot had been joined by Burgess. If past experience was any guide Jameson was probably there too.

Now it wasn't a one-on-one verbal showdown; now it was three combative cadets against one medical officer and this was _exactly_ what McCoy had wanted to avoid. These punks had Jim wrapped around their finger, and the kid was no pushover—Leonard had been an idiot to think he stood a chance where Kirk couldn't hold his own.

"No." McCoy couldn't believe he was doing this. "Not me, obviously. But if things get any more serious, you won't like the position you find yourselves in. That I can guarantee."

Burgess' voice was deeper and louder from just behind the doctor's shoulder. "You know Roy, that kind of sounds like a threat. Doesn't it?"

Fuckfuckfuck.

"Yeah, it kind of does." Lenot pulled that total-bull fake-surprise sarcasm tone. He cocked his head down at the doctor. "Is that a threat, little man?"

Leonard had to swallow twice this time to gather his wits enough to answer. "No." The word sounded weak to his own ears.

"That's what I thought."

McCoy should have quit now, while he was still alive and unscathed and in a relatively good position to make his escape, but even these meatheads weren't scary-looking enough to completely quell the fury burning in his gut.

"It's not a threat." He repeated, taking a page from Jim's book as he gave the proverbial finger to his shrieking inner voice of self-preservation. "It's a warning." 

Formerly silent, Jameson laughed from the doorway. The sound was harsh and loud, a mockery of the way laughter was supposed to be. "Why do you give a shit, doc?" He walked around to glare at the shorter cadet; McCoy was just glad he could keep an eye on him now.

"Kirk is a freak." Jameson went on. He looked disgusted to even have to say the name. "He's a loser. He doesn't give a shit about anyone and no-one gives a shit about him. You should really just stay out of it." 

McCoy glared back. He didn't bother correcting the ignorant man's assumptions about Jim's character; assumptions so far off-base he had to wonder how this stupid cadet had ever been accepted into Starfleet Academy at all. It wouldn't have done any good.

Burgess chuckled. "I don't think you even have a reason. Maybe you think he's some kind of punk-ass hero because his daddy went up in flames years ago, or maybe it's just your whole medical officer complex acting up. We're telling you now: drop it. For your own good."

"Besides, you'll catch something if you stick around that freak long enough."

Lenot chimed back in. "I think being a loser is contagious."

If Leonard had been mad before, well… now he was damn _pissed_. He had the sudden irrational urge to cut loose and sock this idiot square across the jaw. Instead, he repeated himself.

"Stay away from Kirk. If he shows up with any more mysterious injuries, you will be answering to Academy Officials and facing serious reprimands. Maybe even discharge." 

That got their attention.

"Well now." The cadet behind Leonard was closer now, more menacing. "The only way I can figure anyone finding out about something like that is if _someone_ were to snitch. And considering you're the only one who seems to have a problem with us—I'm guessing the only one on campus who would snitch is you."

A strong, heavy hand landed on Leonard's shoulder; he was extremely proud of himself for managing not to flinch.

Lenot grinned. "I think what Grant is trying to say is this: If anyone happens to hear about us—or any fun we happen to have with Kirk—we'll know who went squealing to the brass. Does that make sense?"

_I am in deep shit._ Was the only thought that Leonard could process coherently.

"Does it?" Lenot pressed the issue. Leonard was now completely blocked in, and he had a sinking feeling that maybe he was no longer free to walk away from this peacefully.

"Is there a problem here, gentlemen?"

_There is a god._

The strong, authoritative voice coming from the doorway behind them worked magic. The hand disappeared from Leonard's shoulder, and suddenly there were several feet of space between all four of them. Funny how fast cadets could move when properly motivated.

"No sir." Jameson sounded smug. "We were just having a friendly conversation."

"Uh-huh." The instructor—McCoy couldn't remember his name—didn't seem to buy it, but also didn't appear to want to pursue the matter, either. "Back to your own dorms, cadets. Now."

Leonard didn't have to be told twice.

.

The doctor spent the rest of the day jumping at sudden sounds and looking over his shoulder. He was feeling extremely foolish for his show of false bravado and extremely lucky that a passing instructor (and Leonard never thought he would be grateful for them) happened to walk by when he did. He couldn't figure out what the hell had possessed him to walk up to three freakishly large cadets and threaten them of all things. It was no wonder Jim got the shit beaten out of him on a regular basis and _how the hell_ did he find the guts just to walk out the door every morning knowing these guys were waiting for him?

Trying to calm his jitters, Leonard replicated a large bottle of water and tried to sit down at his desk. He flipped open a textbook and skimmed a few pages, but his mind was disconnected and wandering far away from his studies. He couldn't believe how paranoid he was being but he was already half convinced that the next time he let his guard down something really bad was going to happen and there might not be an instructor around to intervene.

Scoffing in frustration, Leonard slammed his textbook shut with more force than was really necessary.

How did Jim do this?

Speak of the devil—the kid waltzed into the dorm moments later, cheerful as a sunny day and full of energy, even though Leonard knew for a fact he hadn't slept a wink the night before. Either McCoy didn't remember what it was like to be young, or Jim was a hell of a lot tougher than he looked. Well, the doctor already knew the latter was true, and the real answer was probably a little bit of both.

"Hey, doc. So, I was thinking we could go out drinking tonight." Jim was all smiles and charm and lightening blue eyes as he looped an arm around the doctor's shoulders. It was a familiar gesture and he'd done it a hundred times, but hell if the touch didn't make McCoy jump right out of his skin today.

"Bones?" Jim noticed the doctor's bad mood (because he always did) and retreated, looking confused and a bit concerned. He was looking at him the same way the doctor usually looked at Jim. "You feeling okay?"

Was this how the cadet felt every day? Jumpy and nervous, waiting for the axe to fall? No wonder he was a bundle of nerves half the time. This was hellish, and Leonard had only been living it for two hours.

"Yeah, kid." Leonard faked a wide grin and of course Jim didn't buy it for a second. "Little worked up about exams."

"Oh." Jim's voice was quiet and had that same soft undercurrent of disappointment that Leonard always felt when he knew the cadet was lying to him.

Well, now he really felt like an ass.

"Well, I could help you study." The cadet offered awkwardly after a moment of waiting for the medical officer to fess up. "Make some coffee, irritate you for a while."

"Kid, don't even worry about it." The lie went on and Leonard hated that he was doing this, but then again he'd never understood Jim's day-to-day life better than he did now. "Why don't you, uh… just get some rest tonight. We both know you could use it."

For once, Jim didn't bother faking a smile and a laugh. He just looked at Leonard for a very long moment, and then quietly left.

Sighing, the doctor dropped his head into his palms. "Leonard McCoy," He muttered to himself, "For all your preaching, you can be a real dick sometimes."

His inner voice agreed wholeheartedly.

.

It didn't take long for Leonard to realize that confronting Lenot and his compatriots had been a very bad idea. Considering his field of study, he didn't have much cause to cross paths with them—but Kirk was not so lucky. Because he had a compulsory inability to look ahead, he had blindly miscalculated his 'intervention strategy'.

When he returned to the dorm the next night, he found Jim half-slumped on the couch, barely coherent. He didn't need to turn on the lights to make out the bruises and cuts that decorated the kid's face like badges of honor; scars of a battle he'd taken part in against his will.

Even Leonard couldn't pretend this wasn't his fault.

As the doctor quietly retrieved his med kit, he averted his eyes from those startlingly blue ones, and said nothing. Neither did Jim. The doctor had the sinking feeling that he had managed to make things worse, just like he always did. He didn't want to have to explain that to the kid.

"Off." He murmured with a gesture, gently helping the kid peel off his shirt. He tried not to see the winces that accompanied the simple motion. He tried not to see the pain in those damn blue eyes.

He didn't react to the black and blue mess that was Jim's chest, because he was a doctor, always professional, always detached, always impassive. He didn't shy away from even the most gruesome of injuries; his stomach didn't tie itself into knots because he'd seen it all, and it was clinical and all business. He certainly didn't feel sympathy or regret, and he didn't pay any attention to the soft sounds of pain coming from his patient because damnitall, they could suck it up.

Somehow, all those reasons and theories and philosophies went right out the window every time he came within a hundred feet of James Kirk. And he couldn't figure out why, and he couldn't pull himself back. Jim had changed his life, and now all he could do was hope against hope that maybe he could do the same.

The doctor couldn't bring himself to make the usual small talk—ask how it had happened, poke fun at the kid's penchant for trouble. He didn't spew medical jargon at the cadet or try to make him feel more comfortable in a situation in which Jim always, _always_ felt fearful and tense. He couldn't blame the kid for hating doctors and hospitals—but he did find it a little confusing that he had befriended one.

"You know." Jim startled him out of his brooding thoughts. "I didn't think you had it in you."

Leonard's heart sank. Jim knew. Well, of _course _he knew.

"Yeah." Leonard hoped he didn't sound as depressed as he felt. "Well, neither did I."

Popping open a vial of cream with a little more force than was necessary, Leonard carefully began dabbing the medicine onto the ugly bruises on Jim's ribs. He wanted to scream, rant, break something—never in his life had he thought _he_ would be the one at fault for causing injury to another human being.

"I can't believe I did this." The words came out against his better judgment. "I can be a real moron, Jim."

"What?"

"Oh come on." The doctor couldn't keep the scowl off his face any longer. "You can't even pretend this isn't my fault."

"Are you kidding?" The cadet laughed through his teeth, jaw clenched slightly in pain. "I thought it was the most badass thing you're ever done."

Leonard stared. "That's not the point. You got beat to a pulp because I had to go mouth off, kid. I did it because I was roaring pissed and not really firing on all cylinders—it was a stupid thing to do, and now you're paying for it."

"Yeah." Jim smiled. "But I don't really care. Cause I think you're the first person who ever bothered to stick up for me at all."

Leonard's breath caught.

Jim didn't seem to notice how much of an impact his innocent statement had made on the doctor. He looked down in resignation at his bruised torso, and grinned again. "Even if it kind of backfired on you."

_Goddamnit Jim, you're turning me into a softy._ Leonard raged inwardly, fighting back that swell of emotion that had erupted without warning in his chest. No way in hell was he going to mention it out loud, though.

He pushed Jim back against the couch and warned him to sit still with a glare. The kid seemed too tired to protest as the doctor carefully wrapped his ribs and sanitized the variety of ugly cuts. By some miracle, Jim had avoided receiving the traditional black eye—but it had been replaced with a swollen (possibly broken) nose and a split lip. The doctor couldn't be sure if it was really an improvement.

Leonard wasn't even halfway done patching up the bleeding mess that was James Kirk before the kid passed out cold. He seemed to possess the superhuman ability to fall asleep sitting up, a talent Leonard had yet to inherit. He couldn't bring himself to be mad at the kid for it, because it said more clearly than words how much Jim had come to trust him over the past several months.

So instead he chose to grumble halfheartedly to himself, finishing his work and putting away his medkit, all the while trying to push the thought that this was _really his fault _and he had _really screwed up this time_ to the back corners of his mind. Grabbing both of Jim's feet, he pulled him down from his slumped sitting position so that he was stretched out flat on the couch. The doctor threw a blanket over the kid, and promptly went to bed.

Guilt plagued his dreams, but over it all drifted the warm thought that he had finally found a true friend in James Kirk, and the kid had let himself do the same. That was enough for Bones.

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I'm back in California! On a library computer… and as much as I want to respond to reviews, I only have nine minutes left before I have to leave! Ahhh.

Anyway, it's a day late but I did manage to get this to you. The next one will definitely be delayed, but if I get any time to myself this week I may be able to respond to reviews. Thank you so much for your support! Especially GingeRed, who writes me these beautiful super-amazing novel reviews that I read about fifteen times. I 3 you..


	10. Toss Up

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Chapter Ten: Toss Up

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"I've noticed your hostility towards him ... I ought to have guessed you were friends."  
><em>- Malcom Bradbury<em>

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Bones had been sick maybe twice in his life. The first time as a kid he'd had a bad case of the measles and had been kept out of school for nearly a month. In fact, insistently studying all material he could gather on the subject had played a large part in launching his interest in a medical career. The second time had been in med school, when a mean case of influenza had knocked him out of commission for several days and made him miss a big test. A sympathetic instructor had allowed him to make up the exam, but the scenario taught him a good lesson about staying vaccinated and maintaining a healthy immune system.

So when he started sniffling in class one morning late in November, he was fairly convinced that he had nothing more than a case of hay fever. When the sniffles followed him through the day and invited a sore throat along for the ride, he was forced to reevaluate.

"I don't get thick." He moaned at Jim as he clutched a tissue to his nose. He sat in the cafeteria, head titled back as he tried to stem his runny nose. "I take vitaminth and thupplements and I work in the most thterile environment on camputh—"

"And you're talking like an idiot." Sitting just across from him, Jim was beaming with barely contained glee.

"Thut up."

Jim howled with laughter.

Leonard glared at him venomously, but chose to keep his mouth shut. It hurt to talk anyway.

"This is one of the best days of my life." Jim sighed happily to himself.

McCoy would have strangled him if he had the energy. "I'm going to go thleep for a couple of dayth." He growled, pushing his chair back groggily and making for the door.

"No, you can't do that!" Jim skipped after him, making Leonard's head spin. "I'm not going to miss a minute of this."

"What?"

"You. Being sick. It's awesome."

"Prick."

"No, seriously! I mean, now _you're_ the one who's all… kicked-puppy, or whatever it is you always call me."

"I'm going to hit you in a minute, Jim."

Jim's laughter followed him all the way back to the dorm.

.

Leonard spent the rest of the day half-dozing on his couch, a handful of hyposprays and a wad of tissue close at hand. He found it ridiculous that with all the technological and medicinal advances of the 23rd century, modern science had yet to discover a cure for the common cold. It was unfair. And for he of all people to be struck down by such a malady... well, it was just plain embarrassing.

"Don't start." He warned Jim through clogged nasal passages when the door finally hissed open that night and his roommate's steps shuffled across the floor.

"Wasn't planning on it."

The sound of Jim's voice prompted the doctor to peel open one eyelid and lift the pillow pressed miserably over his face.

"Whath wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Don't bullthhit me. Bethide, it's _my_ day to be out of commithon."

Jim said nothing as he shuffled around the kitchen, refusing to look at Leonard.

"Jim."

The kid finally looked up at him.

"Come over here."

"Yes, mother."

Leonard didn't respond to the jab as the kid shuffled over to the couch and slumped down to sit on the floor next to Bones' head.

"Did someone beat the thit out of you again, or did you have a really rough day?"

Jim looked sheepish, and sniffled slightly. He reached for one of Leonard's tissues. "Actually, I think I got your cold."

McCoy tried not to grin too widely. "Now do I get to be a thelf-thatithfied little thnot?"

"I thought you already were." Jim's devilish smile turned into a sneeze. Leonard's answering laughter reduced to him to sniffling and coughing, and soon both of them were laughing too hard at each other to stop.

Jim finally yanked one of the pillows off the couch and buried his face in it.

"Don't get thnot on my pillow." Bones wheezed.

Jim tried half-heartedly to punch him, and missed.

"We're pathetic." The kid moaned, his voice muffled through the pillow.

Leonard was inclined to agree.

.

After two weeks of cold-induced misery, final exams and Christmas hit in quick succession. Bones would have imagined finals to be the greater of two evils, but in the end his ex-wife proved him wrong. She had a knack for that.

He sent his daughter a Christmas Present—and now that he was making good money and staying fairly sober, he could afford something nice. It was a desperately futile attempt and he knew it; Jocelyn had been refusing to pass on his presents to their daughter for over a year now. He still sent them, hoping against hope his ex-wife might have a change of heart. She didn't.

The final straw didn't come until Christmas Eve, when he sat down in his dorm and turned on the holoscreen, bracing himself for impact as he dialed his wife. He spent the better part of an hour begging contritely for her to put Jo on, just for a few minutes—and Jesus Christ it was _Christmas,_ did the woman have no soul? He just wanted to tell his little girl that he loved her; he just wanted to see her face, bright and joyful like it should be. Finally she disconnected him, and Leonard went to the same place he always did when he couldn't figure out how to deal with the pain.

By midnight he was roaring drunk. And he kept drinking. He didn't intend to stop until he passed out cold on the floor. Several days of unconscious oblivion sounded like heaven right about now, and he could feel himself slipping closer and closer to the edge of the abyss with every sip. He didn't feel bad anymore—Jocelyn and Joanna seemed to be faring perfectly without him, and he hadn't been able to stop Jim from crawling off to some god-forsaken hole in the wall to cry and drink away his Christmas—so why couldn't he do the same?

Speak of the devil.

It was sometime after midnight when Jim came in—damned if Leonard could make out the numbers on the lock anymore. He was humming quietly to himself, taking off his shoes, his jacket, carefully putting them where they belonged.

Leonard took another swig before he realized his bottle was empty.

"Bones?" Jim called quietly. He must have had a sixth sense because he spotted Leonard leaning against the counter right away, even in the darkness.

"Hey." Jim sounded quiet and perfectly sober, surprisingly, though in his current state Leonard couldn't have sworn to that.

"Listen, I know you're not big on the whole Christmas thing… hell, neither am I… but I figured it was kind of dumb to be out moping around when we're roommates, right? I mean, I've got you, and you've got me. And that counts for something, right?"

There was a long, awkward silence while Jim fidgeted, probably waiting for Bones to say something. Leonard was still trying to figure out what the hell the kid was going on about. A knot of anger and pain was still boiling in his gut and he couldn't figure out why, and the only thing he really felt right now was that—that hatred, or whatever it was. Leonard couldn't have defined it.

"Well." Jim coughed, embarrassment hiding in his tone. "So you can open this whenever." He dropped a bottle-shaped package on the countertop with a dull 'clink' that was muted by the layers of festive wrapping paper.

Leonard didn't see Jim anymore. His daughter wouldn't be getting a present from him this year. She might never again. The recurring thought was enough to send his mind careening off the edge of the abyss, and without any reason or rhyme and _oh hell why would he do that_ he swung at Jim with a roar of rage.

The sound of his fist connecting with the kid's chin would never completely leave him.

Jim cried out in surprise and pain, and Leonard hated himself for that sound—the sound he had never actually heard Jim make, but that had still managed to haunt his dreams—as the kid's head snapped back and he stumbled back hard against the wall.

__ screamed his mind, but he was too far gone, watching through a twisted mirror as his hands—doctor hands, healing hands—turned to violence for one of the few times he could remember. He hit him again. He couldn't stop. He couldn't wrest control back from the frayed edges of emotion and anger _god there was so much anger_ and now he was seeing red again and his fists were swinging. And this was why he shouldn't drink, shouldn't drink alone and goddamnit _he'd sworn_ to himself that this wouldn't happen again.

Jim was defending himself (thank god he was defending himself) but in a half-hearted way that gripped painfully and squeezed hard at Leonard's heart. An arm thrown up, a weak dodge that screamed submission and resignation and living through so many nights like this one.

The doctor remembered the first time he'd taken a swing at Jocelyn—she'd slapped the divorce papers down in front of him and he'd just snapped, and up until now he'd considered it the darkest moment of his life. Thank god he'd already been too drunk to aim; thank god she'd seen it coming and stormed out of the house; thank god Joanna had been at her grandmother's. It could have gone wrong in so many ways.

Jim wasn't Jocelyn—he didn't get out of the way. He didn't get angry and scream at McCoy and storm out. He just slumped there against the wall, his arms thrown up. He was accepting what was happening to him and if Leonard's heart had been any resemblance of whole after listening to that holovid, it sure as hell would have broken on the spot.

And then he was crying (_nonono)_, sobbing, crumbling to the floor. His own words and thoughts and emotions were collapsing into one another, becoming indistinguishable but mostly he knew how terribly he hated himself at that moment. It was the only perfectly clear thought he could conjure, the only feeling he could trust to be unclouded by alcohol because a part of him really always felt that way. He was the one who had turned against the one person who maybe could have been his friend, and he was the one who had left a marriage in shambles because he couldn't keep the stress of a medical career from following home every night and culminating the next morning in several empty bottle of alcohol.

He could hear his name being called from the dancing blur of colors beyond the edges of his drunken comprehension. He felt warm hands pulling at his own where they covered his face. And all he could think was how he didn't deserve this. He had so royally fucked up the lives of every person who had ever come within arms reach, and now he had done exactly that all over again—to Jim for Christ's sake, to Jim of all people. Jim who had seen everyone he'd ever trusted turn on him. Turn to run, or to attack—and if he wished anything right now, Leonard wished he'd run. It would have better for them both if he'd chosen that over this.

"Leonard!" The voice—or at least, the note of panic in it—finally snapped the doctor out of his teary haze.

"Bones, you're freaking me out. Please, talk to me! What's wrong?" Jim asked earnestly, and he sounded so worried, and his eyes were so blue (like skies over Georgia), and he was kneeling there like he cared. But his lip was split and bleeding and his eyes were dark and held just the edge of something Leonard would give anything not to see there—fear.

"Jim." Leonard moaned, thoughtlessly raising a hand to the kid's face.

Jim flinched back, but allowed the touch. McCoy was sure his heart broke.

"Are you okay?" Jim sounded so sad and worried, so wary and hesitant—how could he stand to be there? How could he sit there, with blood running down his chin, and talk so calmly to the man that just hurt him?

Leonard sobbed out a laugh, and dropped his forehead to the cold tile. His head was spinning and he was praying that maybe he'd just hallucinated all of this. He couldn't face the reality of the situation right now.

"Should I call medical? Get you a hypospray? There's one of those around here somewhere, right? Bones!"

Leonard's chin snapped up (and the room spun and maybe that hadn't been a wise move) as he locked onto the kid's voice and those damn blue eyes.

"'runk." He managed to mumble after a moment of staring at those eyes.

"What?"

"'m just drunk." He laughed again, and now he couldn't stop and he was crouching on his kitchen floor laughing like a madman, tears running down his face.

He vaguely heard Jim slump back against the wall opposite, stretching out his long legs beside the doctor. His face was a portrait of agony, eyes filled with regret and longing. "Bones…. I don't know how to help you."

_You already are, kid._ Leonard stared at Jim through half-lidded eyes, hating himself so much he could scream with the force of it.

Time moved on slowly as the two roommates sat there, Jim a little more lucid than his companion, eyeing one another with fear and regret and helplessness because damnit neither of them knew what to do.

"I'm so sorry, Jim." McCoy's breath hitched painfully. "I'm so sorry."

Jim regarded the doctor carefully, but there was no judgment in his eyes. For the first time, Leonard realized with a start that the kid wasn't about to sprint away in fear and anger and never come back… he was just sitting there quite calmly, like he hadn't just been attacked by his best friend.

"I know, Bones." Jim whispered after a pregnant pause. "I'm sorry too."

It might have been that tone, or the realization that Jim was so very, tangibly _here_, but that was all it took to open the floodgates. And Leonard was crying, sniffling and sobbing like a little girl and dammit but he hadn't broken down like this in years.

Jim's hands were there, awkward and comforting, because he was a good kid and he wasn't going to turn his back on someone who needed help—someone who was his friend. And this wasn't his expertise but he had guts and loyalty like no-one Bones had ever met.

When the doctor finally (it took too long) managed to pull himself back out of his alcohol and tears and self-pity he realized the soft vibrations coming through Jim's chest were the to the sound of a softly-hummed lullaby. As soon as he stopped sniffling, the cadet stopped humming, but McCoy couldn't shake the memory.

"What was that?" Leonard's voice was rough and hoarse.

"My mom sang it to me once." Jim looked bashful and a little sad. "I don't actually remember the words, but I liked it at the time."

"You're pathetic. _I'm_ pathetic."

Jim smiled; a half-expression that came and went quickly. "I know."

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I apologize in advance for this really crappy chapter: I plan to overhaul it later. I'm a little ashamed to be posting it, actually. So. Yeah.

Happy fourth! Go blow something up!

Buuuut before you do that: review! (I'm shameless.)


	11. In Time

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Chapter Eleven: In Time

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"Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."

_C.S. Lewis_

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The next few days were awkward, but only in the sense of two people with a fairly predictable relationship who suddenly had to adapt to distinct changes in it. On the brighter side, the tension, avoidance, and anger that had always seemed to define their relationship was gone. Of course Leonard still had to spend the next week admiring his handiwork in the black and purple bruises that decorated his best friend's cheekbones, and that scarcely seemed enough punishment for what he'd done—though it was more than enough incentive to vow that it would never go so far again. With a friend like Jim around, he had a feeling that it wouldn't. And if Leonard McCoy had ever had any doubts that James Kirk would be indelibly intertwined in his life, they ceased to exist the day the kid forgave him the unforgivable. Jim forgave Leonard what his own family had never been able to, and that said more than words.

Come hell or high water, it was becoming ever more apparent that they were going to be stuck together for the long run.

Of course, that didn't mean their fragile friendship wasn't going to be tested and strained to the breaking point… on a daily basis.

Take today, for example.

"Jim…" The doctor sighed, dropping his forehead onto his crossed arms, repeating himself for what had to be the hundredth time that day. "This is a really, really, _really _stupid idea."

"Duly noted, my good doctor." Jim, whose patient replies had thankfully not yet evolved into annoyance or anger, leaned back in his chair, tipping it onto two legs and balancing precariously. Leonard contemplated kicking it over. It would serve the younger cadet right for so shamelessly abusing academy property. The pair sat at a low table, holed up in a dusty corner of the academy's expansive library where they were unlikely to be scowled at and/or kicked out for their noisiness.

"You still have time to pull out." Leonard lifted his head just enough to scowl down—again—at the list of names on his PADD. "Lord help me, I'll even come up with some kind of medical excuse if it'll save your pride."

"My pride doesn't need saving, Bones." Jim said with a tone of longsuffering. "I think you're going to have to accept that there's nothing you can do about this, take a deep breath, and move on. It's healthy."

"Nothing's healthy around you." The doctor growled, sitting up and pushing the PADD away in disgust. It skittered across the table and bumped into Jim's boot.

The names on the screen contained a list of students that had been accepted to participate in a week-long training simulator known as the Duncan exercise. Like the Kobiyashi Maru, it was it was a grueling, realistic simulation designed to teach the students to work together in mimicry of an actual federation starship crew. Unlike the Kobyashi Maru, over two-dozen eligible students were sealed for a solid week aboard the "U.S.S. Duncan", where they took shifts, ate meals, and performed standard duties. It wasn't the exercise itself that was rubbing Leonard wrong—he didn't give a flying crap if Jim wanted to lock himself in a hellish simulation of a flying metal deathtrap. It was the two names that had been added to the roster after James Kirk's—D. Jameson and R. Lenot—that had his stomach in knots and his mind providing involuntary flashbacks to certain nasty wounds his friend had sustained while in contact with them.

Now that the simulator start date loomed only twenty-four hours away, Leonard had redoubled his efforts at convincing Jim to call it quits.

"Look," He switched from insults to tact with as much grace as he could muster, "No-one is going to hold it against you. People drop out of these things all the time—"

"No, Bones." Jim dropped the chair legs back onto the ground abruptly. "They don't. They don't because it's _ridiculously_difficult to get into them in the first place." He picked up the PADD and tapped it. "See how there's only a handful of names?"

McCoy glared at the offending machine, wishing he could think of a comeback.

"Besides, there's going to be like, a hundred instructors watching us at all times. It's super controlled." Jim attempted to rationalize.

"There's a couple hundred instructors running around the main campus, too." Leonard pointed out. "And somehow those thugs still managed to get to you."

"That's different."

"How?" The doctor was incredulous. "How the hell is it different? You'll be in a sim the size of a freaking warehouse. Observation deck or not, they won't be able to keep an eye on you all the time."

Finally, Jim was starting to look annoyed. "No, and they shouldn't _have _to. I'm a big boy, doc. I can take care of myself."

Bones felt like pulling his hair out. "If you can take care of yourself," he growled, "then what happened all those other times when you wound up bleeding?"

Jim shrugged one shoulder. "They got lucky."

"Of course they did." Leonard muttered under his breath, forcefully massaging his throbbing temples as he tried to will away the headache that was Jim Kirk.

"You get so worked up." Jim chuckled. "Can't be good for you. Besides, you're going to be staffing, aren't you?"

"As physician on call." The doctor clarified, glaring. "I won't be _in_ the simulator, I'll just get called in to mop up your bloody remains after the fact if –when—something goes wrong. Probably at the most inconvenient of times. Like the middle of a test, or at three in the morning."

"At least you can't call your life boring." The kid beamed, like that somehow made up for everything.

McCoy watched the kid pack up his books with furrowed eyebrows, thinking that in the six or seven months since he'd met the kid he'd certainly been unable to call his life boring, and he wasn't even sure if that was a good thing.

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Four days later, McCoy sat with his elbows on his knees in the wide, glass-faced observation deck above a convincing model of a starship interior. So maybe he'd offered the attending physician to switch out a shift or two, and maybe the other doctor had agreed on the spot and ran, hoping McCoy wouldn't change his mind. Sitting for hours at a time while starry-eyed cadets ran a routine simulation did not strike the ordinary man as appealing. Hell, it didn't even strike Bones as appealing. What did was keeping on eye on Jim, and more importantly, on Jameson and Lenot. How those meatheads had qualified for the exercise at all was beyond Leonard.

On the other hand, the fact that Jim had the highest test scores of any other cadet taking the test did not surprise him.

This fact also caused Leonard to take a good, hard look at himself. In the hours he spent in half-awake limbo on the quiet, empty personnel observation deck, there was plenty of time for this. At first, he wondered why in the world Jim wouldn't have told him he'd be operating in the position of captain in the simulation. It was the sort of thing he would have wanted to congratulate the kid on, maybe take him out for a drink.

And then it hit him: with the way he'd been acting lately, why _would_ the kid have told him? All Leonard really did lately was nag and fuss and berate the cadet. He didn't think he'd want to tell himself anything, either. In his rush to overcompensate for the mistakes of the past he'd made himself into a doctor and a protective sibling rather than a friend. He hadn't exactly made himself available

Well. At least he had a solid three days left to figure out how to word his apology.

Bones was catapulted quite abruptly from his brooding thoughts by the sudden, ear-piercing wail spiking through his senses. He jumped a little, squinting as sets of bright red lights (altogether unnecessary, in his opinion) came on at strategic points around the simulator.

He'd never been on a ship (thankfully) that was in full-blown panic mode, but even from his perch fifty feet above the action, he thought it looked pretty damn convincing. Eerily so. The entire simulator became a web of noise and running feet and blaring sirens, all bathed in pulsing red light. The "crew" of the Duncan exploded into action. Those that had been "off duty" (and damn it sounded corny when Leonard thought of a sim that way) were up in a heartbeat and sprinting for their stations.

Leonard found himself watching Jim, because he was interested and supportive (he told himself) and not because he was paranoid. Even in hyper-active protective mode the doctor was curious to see how the younger cadet would react in such a scenario. He knew the kid had nerves of steel and the instincts of some kind of wild animal, but he'd never really been able to see those skills translate into anything more noble than getting himself into or out of a bar fight. Usually the former.

To Leonard's relief, though not really to his surprise, the blond cadet seemed to be keeping his head. He jogged around the command deck with quick, decisive movements, all action and poise. One moment he was giving terse instructions over the pilot's shoulder, the next he was demanding that the communications officer acquire an immediate report on the internal systems failure from engineering.

As he watched, Bones couldn't help feeling impressed and maybe a little proud of the kid. He was going to have to give off some major proud-sibling vibes after Kirk got himself freed from Starfleet limbo. In that department, he felt that he had a lot of catching up to do.

"Captain," The voice of one of the command deck ensigns carried over the speaker system as the youth addressed Kirk, "Engineering is reporting one of their technicians is trapped in a pressure compromised airlock. Please advise."

Kirk froze for a moment, lips pursed. Bones could practically see the gears in his head turning as he was faced with one of the simulation's key leadership dilemmas. Well, Leonard couldn't have sworn that's what it was—but it damn well smelled like it.

"I'll go down myself." Kirk surprised them all. "Tell them to prepare two bio-hazard suits and evacuate and pressurize all surrounding corridors."

"Sir, that's not pro—"

"I'll expect those to be ready when I arrive." Jim cut the younger boy off sternly, and Bones could have sworn he sounded twenty years better than his age.

"Yes sir." The ensign blinked, a little taken aback.

Fully committed, Jim strode across the deck. He took the "lift" down the single story to the engineering deck. The simulator was big, but not _that _big. Most of the ship's technical details were left up to the imagination. The scale was actually slightly deceiving, given the technical realism of aspects like the communications network, air pressurization, and artificial gravity. The crew couldn't count on the psuedo-realism of the sim cutting them any breaks: the carefully structured, glass-topped hallways were each pneumatically sealed. Leonard wouldn't put it past the instructors to initiate a serious depressurization emergency in one of the airlocks to test the protocol of the crew's response. Of course if something were to go wrong, they were likely to step in before any real injury was done, but the potential was there. It looked and felt for all the world like the crew was aboard a real, albeit small, federation starship. Of course that was probably the point, but it still threw the doctor a little.

He watched in half anticipation, half apprehension as Jim arrived at the engineering deck and his crew debriefed him on the situation. As he'd ordered, the surrounding airlocks were abandoned and the safety suits required for entering the depressurized space stood ready. He suited up in one and tucked the other under his arm.

"Captain." The acting Chief engineer hesitated when Jim moved towards the first airlock door. She looked almost a little concerned. "This is highly unprecedented, you do realize. You're the last person who should be endangering themselves. We have extraction crews, we can—"

"Where is a captain's duty, if not with his crew?" Jim turned, and the old James Kirk resurfaced in devilish, dazzling smile. "Your concern is touching, officer, but I hardly think this is the time or place for sexual advances."

_Cocky bastard._

The Chief Engineer did not look amused. Sighing, she ushered the handful of other team members out of the hallway, sealing the door behind her.

Jim didn't hesitate after that. He commanded the computer to check the airlock integrity, and when it confirmed stability, he switched on the artificial oxygen in his own suit. The onboard computer informed anyone who cared to listen that the cadet had six minutes of artificial oxygen remaining.

Bones winced a little. He sure hoped the kid knew what he was doing.

The doctor found himself standing without really meaning to, creeping closer to the edge of the deck, pressing against the glass in a vain attempt to get a better view of Jim's movements. He silently cheered for the kid as he made it into the faulty airlock without mishap. Damn punk had better get some kind of commendation for this.

"This is your captain." Kirk informed through the porthole panel that was all that stood between him and the trapped" crew member. "Are you able to communicate?"

An unintelligible response was mumbled through the airlock door, but it seemed to be enough for Jim. Stoically ignoring that eerie omniscient voice alerting him that only 4.5 minutes of safe oxygen remained in his suit, he methodically ordered the computer to make a repair stabilization on the airlock, which was done to a 56% safe level (the omniscient voice informed).

Moving quickly, Jim opened the airlock and stepped inside, his steps painfully bogged down by the semi-gravity of the compromised corridor. He was mumbling instructions to the stranded crew member, but the ship's sim-wide intercom system was predictably faulty in the area and the conversation was almost unintelligible.

There were a few moments of dead silence that followed, and Leonard felt himself tensing up automatically. A thousand and one scenarios were screaming through his mind, none of them favorable or for that matter, even very likely, but call it the cynic in him. Or maybe the part of him that knew Jim and his penchant for bad luck all too damn well.

The partially closed door blocked most of his view, but he thought he finally caught a blur of movement, a muffled sound over the intercom. After a few moments of tense silence, a suited figure emerged, moving slowly in the semi-gravity towards the safety of the outer hallway. Leonard couldn't have been certain, but the figure didn't look like Jim... he didn't move like Jim.

Unconsciously keeping pace, Leonard moved down the glass wall to keep his eyes on the... person. He was pretty convinced it wasn't Jim, and the quick, furtive glances he shot every few seconds back to the airlock showed that the real Jim was not emerging.

Bones felt panic bubbling in his chest, and like a bolt of lightening, enlightenment struck. Half-jogging down the stairs to the lower deck, he approached the technician seated at the nearest simulation control panel.

"Who was the cadet trapped in the airlock?" He demanded without fanfare.

Looking a little taken aback, the technician nonetheless did a quick check of his holoscreen. "It looks like the cadet assigned to this exercise is Jameson, Dirk."

_Shit._

"Get that door open." McCoy commanded sharply. "Open it now."

"Doctor, the simulation is in progress." Catching wind of the commotion, one of the instructors approached with a frown. "These doors cannot be opened except—"

"—except in the case of a medical emergency." Bones snapped, feeling his apprehension pique. "And I am telling you, Cadet James Kirk is experiencing a medical emergency, or something pretty _damn_ close, _right now_."

"Check it." The instructor snapped at the technician, who nearly jumped out of his skin in his hurry to obey.

"You'd better be right about this, Doctor." The instructor—J. Wright, read his patch—scowled. "If this turns out to be an unfounded accusation, I'm going to have to ask you to leave the simulation premises."

"I'll leave when the cadets under my supervision are all medically safe and sound." Leonard barely wasted time to snap at the man—he rounded the console instead and came to peer over the shoulder of the nervous operator.

The technician's fingers flew rapidly as he drew up security monitors for the corridor in question. The first images showed a suited figure exiting and re-stabilizing the outer airlock.

At almost the same moment, the simulation computer informed the crew still inside the simulator that Captain Kirk's air supply had reached critical levels.

Since one cadet had already emerged from the compromised area, Leonard found it safe to assume that Jim was still in there somewhere.

It was officially time to panic.

"Jim!" Leonard bellowed, feet flying down the observation ramp. He practically flew at the bay doors, fumbling for his override identification card. It took him a few tries, hands shaking as he mindlessly screamed his friend's name over and over again, but he got the doors open just as the security team reached it. He bolted ahead of them, ignoring their calls to wait.

He wasn't thinking about anything in that moment but reaching Kirk, and damn if anyone was going to hold him back.

Except for, possibly, the sim itself. What had looked like a relatively simple layout of hallways and corridors from above looked featureless and bland from down here, surreal and shifting in the effect of those stupid red strobes. Leonard realized within seconds that he had no idea where he was. He aimed in what he remembered being the general direction of the engineering segment, and ran.

"_Fuck_!" He ranted at the walls as he took yet another wrong turn. He really wished that he'd paid closer attention to the layout of the simulator; he was about ready to strangle somebody out of sheer stress.

He was distantly aware of the simulation's emergency override initiating as gravity and pressurization protocols shut down one by one. The red lights and wailing sirens ceased and suddenly the crisp white hallways seemed to make sense again.

Within moments, Leonard was tearing down the hallways towards the airlock panel. "Jim!" He screamed again, voice hoarse, and dammit, he really wished the kid would just pop up somewhere with that stupid grin and tell him he was overreacting and being melodramatic and wasn't he just going to give himself a stroke someday?

He slammed into the panel; it didn't budge. Desperate, he cupped his hands over the small porthole, trying to see inside. His head was spinning a little as the oxygen-drained corridor slowly began to regain air circulation, but he could still make out a still body lying on the floor inside.

Pulling back, Leonard dropped his shoulder and slammed into the door.

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Dang, steady weekly updates and then nothing for two months? You guys must be really mad at me right now. I understand.

I want to apologize first off for a poor choice of words in the last chapter. Those of you who read it know what I'm talking about. It was tactless and definitely out of line, and I'm not sure what I was thinking at the time that I wrote it. Other than the fact that my daily companions are six college-aged boys and whoever I happen to see at work, my only theory is that I was thinking like a guy at the time. I sorry. That's definitely the last time I post anything without major proofing.

As far as the whole missing-in-action thing goes, ultimately I feel I owe you a short explanation. Feel free to skip it and get straight to reviewing.

I jest. But not really.

ANYWAY. So college just started, been working like mad, blah blah blah. My biggest excuse is: I am joining the military! Woohoo, I'm stoked. So are ALL of my muscles. I have been spending every waking moment at the gym or buried in "ASVAB for Dummies". I will be enlisting at the end of the year and shipping out for basic in the spring, it looks like.

So the first reviewer who can correctly guess which branch I'm joining gets to send me a Kirk/Bones centric prompt for my next one-shot. How's that for motivation, eh?

I love you! :3


	12. A Friend in Need

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Chapter Twelve: A Friend in Need

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"Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think."

_Christopher Robin_

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The door gave in with a noise that suggested it might never close correctly again, and Leonard all but stumbled into the small compartment. The soft hiss of the vents told him that the entire simulator was being systematically reoxygenated, but the air was still painfully thin and breathing was difficult.

"Jim…" Leonard wheezed, heart pounding.

The formerly still body on the floor moved slightly at the sound of his voice, and the doctor could have cried with relief.

"Hold on, kid." The medical officer dropped to his knees and fumbled for the latches of the helmet, hands shaking with adrenaline. The glass was foggy and opaque from the cadet's breath, so the doctor wasn't able to get a good look at him until he finally managed to pull the thing off. Jim was soaked in sweat and paler than a corpse, lips tinged blue. He was breathing, but only just barely, breath coming in shallow, rapid gasps. The kid was on the verge of hyperventilation. He sucked in a pained gasp as the helmet slid off, but his eyes were still unfocused and glassy.

_Hypoxia followed by rapid-onset cyanosis. _The doctor that still ruled his mind diagnosed quickly. _Not good._

"Come on." Leonard fumbled at the restricting suit, frustrated when his shaking fingers and the overly-complicated contraption failed to cooperate. He was pretty sure he wound up permanently damaging something, but he managed to get the suit open and pushed away from Jim's chest.

"Hey! You stay with me!" Leonard demanded when the cadet's head rolled to the side, hands coming up to Jim's face, patting roughly. "Stick with it kid, just breathe."

'Just breathing' seemed like a concept that was going to be more difficult to grasp than it sounded like. One of Jim's hands groped blindly, finding the doctor's arm and squeezing painfully. He was breathing too quick, too fast; there still wasn't enough oxygen in the room to kickstart his body back into its regular patterns.

"In, out, that's it." Leonard tried to help the kid, tried to set a pattern for him, but it almost seemed like he was too deep in his own head. Jim's eyes rolled back until Leonard slapped his face again, bringing his glassy stare back to the doctor. His skin and hair were drenched with sweat.

"Where the hell is the medical team…" Leonard swore, feeing the icy grip of desperation closing around his chest. He could handle this; Jim would be fine, he could get him through this. If the _goddamn medical officers_ would show up and do their job.

As if on cue, footsteps from the outer corridor caused Leonard to whip around. "In here!" He bellowed. "Get a move on!"

They did. Within moments the team arrived, pulling open the door n a flurry of activity and equipment. They'd donned oxygen masks themselves—clearly the cause of their delay—but the doctor couldn't waste time hating them for it. He snatched a mask and tank out of the hands of the nearest medic and jammed it into maximum output. He quickly slipped the mask over Jim's mouth and nose, feeling his own chest relax as Jim let out a shuddering gasp and finally managed to take in more than just a partial mockery of a breath.

"That's it, kid." The doctor murmured mindlessly, gripping the kid's hand hard with his own free hand. "Just breathe, we've got you. In and out, you got this."

Jim groaned softly, eyes sliding shut in exhaustion as his breaths deepened slowly and evened out. Bones dared remove his hand from the mask to gently wipe the damp hair out of the kid's face. His own head was still spinning, though air in the room had already been circulated. He supposed it was the aftermath of the adrenaline and panic. Feeling slightly dizzy, he found himself sliding bonelessly to the floor beside Jim.

One of the medics was offering him a tank and mask of his own but he swatted them away, disgusted.

He finally caught sight of the crowd that had gathered outside the small room, and scowled at them. "Well? If someone doesn't hunt down that son-of-a-bitch, I will."

"Cadet Jameson is already being contained by the security teams." The same instructor who had doubted Leonard earlier spoke up with a frown. "However there is no evidence that there was any foul play involved here, doctor."

"No foul play my _ass_." Bones growled, sparing a glance down at the too-pale cadet. Jim seemed to have slipped into some kind of stupor; his eyes were half-open and fixed unseeingly on the ceiling. His breaths were uneven, but deeper than they had been and they seemed fair less painful. At least something seemed to be working.

"Get that stretcher in here." McCoy growled when he was convinced the kid was not about to pass out. He stood by as a team of medics struggled to fit themselves and a manual stretcher into the cramped space. They clearly had no intention of coming anywhere near the seething medical officer and gave him as wide a berth as they could manage.

Leonard hovered watchfully, trying not to lose physical contact with Kirk as he was gently lifted onto the padded canvas surface.

The kid seemed to stir a little as he was shifted, eyes sliding lethargically around the room until they landed on the doctor. He tried to smile a little through the mask, but just ended up grimacing.

If the situation had been any less nerve-racking, Bones would have laughed at the kid.

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Bones remained glued to the semi-conscious cadet's side on the short trip back to Academy Medical. It took every once of self control he had to stand by without interfering and let the facility doctors do their job. After running a wide variety of tests and bloodwork, it was ultimately determined that the cadet would live.

Well. Now Bones could get some sleep at night, knowing professionals like these were on hand. Christ.

Although thoroughly exhausted, Jim quickly came back to his senses once his blood flow returned to normal and oxygen began circulating through his system. As expected, he put up quite a fuss about being confined to a bed, even if the doctors promised he could be released within the hour. According to _his_ relatively skewed sense of logic, he hadn't needed to be admitted in the first place.

After hearing this, Leonard went out into the hallway and slammed his forehead against the wall a few times.

A security officer arrived shortly after to interview Kirk and inform them both that Cadet Jameson had been placed on Academic suspension awaiting official review of the incident. Bones was glad to hear this, but Jim didn't seem to be.

Bones shouldn't have been surprised when Captain Pike showed up at the hospital, but he still was. He didn't think that the crisp uniform and it's extremely imposing image would ever fail to affect him.

"Doctor." Pike joined the medical officer at the door of one of the clinic's temporary patient rooms.

"Captain." Leonard's eyes flickered to the older man, but ultimately returned to Jim. He still wasn't convinced something wasn't going to pop out of the woodwork and try to eat the luckless kid.

The younger cadet was paler than the sheets he sat on and looked like he hadn't slept in several weeks, but overall he had managed to escape permanent damage. He sat with his back to the door, flirting half-heartedly with a young nurse who attempted to do a final checkup before he was released from the hospital.

"How is he?"

"Oh, _he's_ fine." Leonard's jaw clenched. "Jameson's not going to be."

"I read the preliminary incident report." Bones wasn't sure he liked the resigned tone in Pike's voice. "I understand you think Cadet Jameson had something to do with Kirk's condition?"

Leonard turned incredulous eyes to the captain. "I think?" He repeated. "I know he did. That bastard's had it in for Kirk since the day he started. You've seen what they've done to him."

"I see a cadet who has sustained injuries in the course of his training." Pike sounded frustrated with his own words. "Unless Cadet Kirk can testify to the contrary…?"

Bones was silent, glowering at Jim's back. He wished to hell the kid would testify to the contrary—wished he'd even admit what was happening. But he knew Jim, and unfortunately he knew the kid would chop his own arm off before agreeing to testify about what Jameson, Lenot, and Burgess had done to him. Whether this decision was born of fear or stubbornness or something else entirely, Leonard had given up guessing.

"I have to do something." He said at last, voice steely. "I won't just sit here and watch this go on: it's gone too far already."

"I couldn't agree more." Pike surprised him with his answer. "If the cadet refuses to speak out against his persecutors to protect himself, I suppose we'll simply have to catch them in the act."

It took a moment for that to sink into Leonard's head. When it did, he allowed himself a moment to gape at the poker-faced officer. "Are you saying—"

"I'm saying that you and I are going to take some affirmative action in this matter." Pike's blue eyes sparked a bit as they turned briefly to McCoy. "I didn't drag Jim's ass out of the mud to watch him get beaten to death right under my nose. You may find it hard to believe, but you're not the only one who cares about what happens to him, Doctor McCoy."

Pike held Leonard's gaze for a beat, communicating the fact that _holy shit the man was serious_, and then nodded his goodbye.

"Meet me at my office tomorrow after your shift." The Captain called over his shoulder as he left.

McCoy was still thinking of a reply by the time Pike disappeared.

.

Even Leonard was exhausted by the time he and Jim made it back to their dorm. He couldn't even imagine how Jim must feel—aside from his brief stint of unconsciousness, the cadet hadn't had a moment's rest since being pulled out of the simulator. His shoulders sagged and his steps were heavy as he shuffled across the floor to his room.

"Not so fast." Leonard grabbed his arm. If Jim made it to his bed odds were Bones wouldn't get answers out of him for another twenty-fours hours at least.

"Sleep…" Jim groaned disapprovingly, but allowed Leonard to guide him to a seat on the couch.

"After you tell me what the hell happened in there." McCoy stopped the protests he knew were coming. "And not the bullshit you fed to the security officer. What actually happened, Jim?"

"Bed." Jim mumbled again, chin drooping.

"If you insist on being difficult, I probably have a hypo around here that'll wake you up. You know, if you're really so tired."

"Sometimes, I think I hate you." Jim's eyes were closed, and he shifted a little in his seat as if he expected to fall asleep right where he was.

Leonard snapped his fingers, getting Jim's attention with a pointed look. "Talk to me, kid. You owe me that much."

"What's to say, Bones?" Jim sighed and he sounded so tired, and the shadows under his eyes were so dark when he finally looked up at his friend. Leonard felt a pang of remorse for doing this to the kid right now, but he reminded himself that it really was for the cadet's own good.

"Just tell me what happened." McCoy's voice was softer now. "Just be honest with me. I swear, I lost ten years of my life seeing you like that, kid. I just want to know the truth. I swear I'm not going to go hunting the guy down."

"You'd better not." Jim tried to smile; it crooked one corner of his mouth up and then dropped like he was too tired to hold it there.

"You've got to help me help you, Jim." The doctor pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "You know that. That's all I'm trying to do here."

The doctor had a brief flash of realizing how utterly strange he sounded, as if he were talking to a frightened child or a wounded animal instead of the strong, stubborn man he'd come to know as his best friend. His gut twisted a little as he realized the comparison might not even be too far off the mark.

Jim looked thoughtful and pensive, but the words still weren't coming.

"Did Jameson attack you in that airlock?" Leonard blurted out what had been on his mind all night.

Jim's eyes shifted just briefly in his direction; Bones didn't need words to confirm his worst suspicions. He felt anger bubbling up in his chest like an active volcano, begging for release. The doctor spent a moment staring at Jim (who would no longer meet his eyes), trying to understand the way his mind worked. He found it impossible.

"Jim." He waited firmly until the kid met his eyes this time, and found himself blanching at all the pain, anger, and rage he saw there. "We swore we would be honest with each other. Didn't we?"

"Yes." Jim answered softly. His head fell back against the couch cushions. Slumped there like that, knees pulled up and arms crossed, he looked like little more than a kid. Bones had to remind himself that in many sense of the word, Jim still was that kid.

"Yes, we did." Kirk repeated softly, almost as if to remind himself.

This time, Bones waited for him to be ready. He felt instinctively that he was, and that meant it was time for him to back off before he lost him completely.

"He didn't… hit me or anything. He pulled the tank off my suit." Jim mumbled at last. "I think he was actually out of it, you know. I don't think he meant for it to be me. He was just… you know, he couldn't breathe. He was desperate."

_Don't you dare make excuses for him._ McCoy wanted to grab Jim by the collar and scream it in his face, but with a few deep breaths he managed to resist the urge.

"You couldn't breathe either." Leonard tried and failed to take the sharp edge out of his voice. "Would _you_ have stolen a tank from someone else?"

Jim shook his head, finally finding the good grace to look a little contrite.

"And he left you there." _Goddamnit_, Leonard felt so angry. And he was keeping fairly calm in spite of it, which was perhaps the greater miracle. "He took your tank, and left you there, unable to breathe. You could have died, for christsakes."

Jim's jaw shifted. Bones could tell he was trying to figure out something to say that wouldn't make himself look weak or Leonard even angrier. Which of course only served to make Leonard angry, because he didn't want the kid to feel like he needed to shield himself like that.

Stewing silently, Bones sat back against the chair and tried to cool himself off. There was no quicker way to shut Jim down than to get angry and start attacking him. He really needed to cut that tactic off at the pass before they both blew up and the whole thing ended badly. He wanted to help Jim here, not make things any more difficult for him. How helping someone could be this complicated was completely beyond him—

"Thanks, Bones."

The soft voice snapped Leonard back to the present, and he glanced up at Jim in surprise. "What?"

The kid looked up at him carefully, still looking more torn and tormented than anyone his age had any right to be. "Thanks for coming in, you know… In the sim." He coughed out a little laugh and looked away sheepishly. "I really didn't think I was gonna make it, this time. I felt like I was dying."

McCoy's heart clenched. "I'll always come, Jim." He sighed. "God help me, I think I'm gonna always be there if you need me. At least I'm going to do my damndest to be."

Jim's grin made it to the surface this time. "I know."

And somehow that meant more than anything. Because Jim _did_ know; did believe Leonard was going to be there for him. And that was all Bones needed.

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Gahh, doesn't that quote up at the top just turn your heart to mush? It does mine.

Anyway, yes you got another update within a week! Your eyes do not deceive you! First of all, I'm determined to get this story done before I get bogged down in school and _lordhelpme_ it's already happening, so for my own sanity I'm going to be spitting these chapters out as fast as I can. Also, I kind of wanted to wrap up this bit for poor Jim's sake. Even I wasn't sure what was going to happen to him until I wrote it! :]

As for the Very Big Deal I mentioned last chapter, the winner is: A tie!

_Whaaat_? How can it be?

Well, let me explain.

Technically, you ALL got it wrong. Because not a single one of you guessed the United States Coast Guard! Yes, it is a branch of the military, just small and exclusive and way too awesome for most people to remember.

So the closest answer was the Navy, which **Zemby** guessed first, so there is your first winner. Hurray! **Zemby** is also the first person who has thanked me for serving (even if I haven't technically served yet) and this was just the most amazing feeling. I never really thought people would say that to me: I mean I've said it about a thousand times, but it feels so strangely different when someone else is saying it to you. In any case, thank you **Zemby**! You made me smile. A lot. :)

It was my amazing **laynee**_**, **_who always writes me the _best_ reviews, who got it the closest through summarization: "I'm going to guess Navy or Marines. Gut instinct tells me Navy. Something about you being aboard a 'ship' of any sort seems to fit."

**Laynee**, you melt my heart. :)))

So **Zemby** and **laynee** (you amazing people, you!) get to send me prompts for my next two Jim/Bones one-shots! I'm dying to see what they come up with. :D

Thank you so much to everyone else who reviewed: GBFreak1, J loves JS, Thomson, kayenem, xRandomosityx, spinalcracker, Shameless Spocker, TipsyTippyToes, Solo by Choice, moviesaremagic, ackeberlynn, magnoliatf, and phoenixluv! Your support means the world to me. :)


	13. A Thin Line

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Chapter Thirteen: A Thin Line

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"We do not so much need the help of our friends as the confidence of their help in need."

_Epicurus_

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Leonard had hoped—assumed, that is—that Jim would be exhausted enough to sleep through the night and then some. Anyone else would have, after nearly dying of oxygen deprivation.

Of course, a normal physiological response from someone like Jim was just too much to hope for.

The first thump against the adjoining wall woke the doctor. He lay there selfishly for a moment, hoping against hope that maybe Jim had just moved in his sleep and bumped the wall. Dammit, he was tired too, and getting out of bed just then sounded like the least appealing option imaginable.

The second thump made it obvious that he wasn't going to be able to just fall back to sleep.

Feeling like a zombie, Bones lurched out of his warm bed and around the corner into Jim's room. The kid sat up on the edge of his mattress, hair shooting up in all directions and bags under his eyes the color of coal. He was paler than the sheets he sat on and looked a little breathless.

"You okay?" Leonard's voice came out as a hoarse whisper in his semi-awareness.

The kid jumped and looked up, as if he had just noticed the doctor—and maybe he had. The cadet had to be a little disoriented after all he'd been through in the past twenty-four hours.

"Woke up."

Jim's voice was as raw as Leonard's felt, but it was that undercurrent of emotional _something_ that kept the doctor from turning around and heading back to his pillow. It might have been confusion or sadness or fear—but it was something young and vulnerable and out of place, and that kept the older cadet rooted to where he stood.

Jim swallowed, his tired features thrown into sharp relief in the blue semi-light streaming through the window at the head of his bed, and looked down.

Good god, the boy knew how to look just like a kicked puppy without even trying.

Grumbling a string of words and phrases that were meant to be curses but came out as disjointed syllables of incoherent Georgian slang, the doctor shuffled over to the bed and sat down next to Jim.

Neither of them said a word, but the younger cadet leaned into the doctor's shoulder ever so slightly and that made it all right.

Within a few minutes Leonard was jerking upright as he fell asleep sitting up. From the dangerous angle of Jim's drooping chin, he was clearly on the same track.

"Scootover." Leonard mumbled, half-pushing, half-rolling the kid back onto the bed and towards the wall. Without really thinking about it, he hit the pillow next to Jim, stretching out his legs half-on and half-off the narrow mattress.

He'd fallen asleep on Jim's bed once or twice before, when the kid had been too exhausted or drunk to really notice. He'd never done something like that when they were both awake and sober because, hell, it was awkward. At least it should have been. With any other person on the planet, it would have been.

Not with Jim.

Especially not when Jim turned towards the wall, making sure his back was just touching Leonard's, and sighed like the weight of the world had just been lifted off his chest.

It kind of made the doctor feel like an ass—he'd been so close, so readily available and he'd never really been able to comfort the kid when he needed it most. Jim was the kind of person who could starve themselves to death with lack of physical contact. A touch was all he needed and it was like a soothing balm to wounds Leonard couldn't even see.

Waiting for the kid's breath to slowly even out, Leonard lay there for a while, staring at Jim's ceiling as he mulled over that concept. It kind of made sense, and maybe it was one of the keys he'd been missing in his quest to unlock the puzzle that was James Kirk. The way the kid threw himself, literally and metaphorically, into everything—sports, fights, sex. He needed touch right here, right now, and only after he'd gotten it—and it didn't seem to matter if it was in the form of violence or affection—did his patterns and attitudes and thoughts all seem to hammer themselves straight for a while. It was never permanent. If the doctor had to guess, he would say that Jim had been starved for physical contact as a child. And of course he felt like an ass just for thinking it as soon as the concept crossed his mind, even if it made sense.

He really didn't want to think about the kid that way—a doctor to a patient—but sometimes it was unavoidable. He'd been placed in the unique position of being both to Jim; peer and healer, detached onlooker and concerned confidant, casual friend and emotionally invested brother. The roles he played—the roles Jim needed him to play—seemed to be in constant battle with one another.

Hyper-aware of the warm back pressed into his shoulder blade, these thoughts wound, erratic and troubling, through the stream of Leonard's consciousness as sleep pulled him under.

.

Thankfully, Bones had remembered to turn off all of Jim's alarms and redundant wake-up programs the night before, and was able to extricate himself from the unconscious cadet and prepare for his shift without waking him. It said a lot about how exhausted the kid must be that he never stirred, even when Leonard let out a loud curse after tripping over his own discarded boots. He almost envied Jim the extra sleep. Personally, he was sore and achy for reasons he could not discern and would have gladly remained in bed, his own or otherwise, until the following day.

After making a few quiet calls in to Jim's professors to explain his absence (once again: damn lucky kid) Leonard headed for the hospital, still feeling like the walking dead.

It wasn't an hour into his shift that the Chief Medical Officer on duty got tired of griping at the half-awake doctor and told him to take the rest of his shift off. McCoy hadn't realized he'd been so distracted—but maybe that just proved the point. He made a beeline for the door before CMO Higgins could change his mind.

The still-worried, slightly-paranoid side of him insisted that his first stop be back at the dorm to check that Jim was still alive and breathing. The calmer, more rational part of his brain reminded him that despite yesterday's trauma, Jim was no longer in any actual bodily danger and the most he could accomplish by his over-protective behavior was waking the cadet from his much-needed rest.

Reluctantly, he chose to side with logic.

So instead he turned his steps towards the heart of the campus and the administrative buildings. He realized within minutes that he actually had no idea where to find Captain Pike's office, and spent nearly half-an-hour interrogating bypassers on the subject. He was eventually directed to the officer's building where a tired-looking assistant did a lookup for him and directed him to a door about ten feet across the hallway clearly marked with Pike's name. Just his luck

Feeling a bit embarrassed, McCoy rapped three times, loud and quick, on the Captain's door before inviting himself in.

"Doctor." Pike sounded a little surprised to see him, sitting with legs crossed in a comfortable looking, if plain chair behind a mound of paperwork. "You're early."

"Skipped out on my shift." Leonard cleared his throat. "Been a bit distracted."

"I would imagine." Pike stood to offer McCoy a chair.

Leonard declined with a brusque wave. "Can't sit. Too strung out."

"Calm down." A note of amusement crept into the Captain's voice as he shrugged and reseated himself, pulling his chair closer to his desk. "You won't be able to help anyone in this state."

"Pardon my rudeness, but I wasn't exactly able to help when I was calm, either." Leonard frowned. "You sounded yesterday like you had some kind of a plan. Mind enlightening me?"

Pike raised an eyebrow at the doctor, and glanced pointedly at the chair.

Suddenly acutely aware of his own subordinate rank, Leonard reevaluated his options and sat stiffly.

"Thank you." Pike looked like he was trying not to smile. "You seem a very direct sort of man, doctor."

"I get that a lot."

"I would imagine." Pike tested the doctor's patient as he reached for a silver cup on his desk. "How is Cadet Kirk this morning?"

"Sleeping. Like he should be."

"Glad to hear it." The Captain took a sip of his drink, not looking at Leonard.

The doctor bit his tongue and settled for bouncing one knee up and down in impatience.

Pike took his time. "You should be pleased to hear that yesterday's incident is under close review by campus security. Jameson is facing investigation under suspicion of assault."

Leonard released a long breath at the news. "Well, finally. Some good news."

"Is it?"

The words surprised McCoy. "I think so. Isn't it?"

Pike stood, cup in hand, to walk to the tall, narrow window that looked down on the courtyard of the building. "Even in a carefully calculated training experience, it's impossible to monitor everything that goes on in a contained simulation like the Duncan Exercise. Security footage, on initial review, is inconclusive about the nature of the altercation between Jameson and Kirk." Pike glanced over. "And Kirk will not confirm our suspicions."

"Well, doesn't he have to? Legally?" Bones' anger kept him from feeling guilty for his slight betrayal of Jim's wishes. "Doesn't he have to give a legally binding statement?"

"Yes. And his initial statement indicates that he has little clear memory on the incident." Pike didn't sound convinced.

"This is insane." The doctor didn't even realize he'd stood until he felt the irrational urge to kick something. "How can you have nothing? No audio, no visual records? What kind of a clownhouse are you running here?"

"Calm _down_, doctor." Pike repeated without looking at him. He sounded relaxed, but this time his voice rang with an undertone of warning. "I was under the impression that you possessed the self-control necessary to act on this matter."

Leonard fell silent, but fumed.

Pike finally looked over at him. "Are you going to keep your head, or should I show you to the door now, before you do something stupid?"

_This__is__for__Jim._ Leonard reminded himself, letting out a long, angry breath. _Do__this__for__Jim._

"I'm fine."

The words came out clipped, but Pike seemed satisfied and returned to his chair. "Good. Now. Shall we get down to business?"

That sounded just find to the doctor. He forced himself to (calmly, coolly) regain his seat. "What did you have in mind?"

"The old fashioned kind of detective work." Pike's lips twitched upward. "Holovid surveillance."

Leonard blinked. waiting for the punchline. "That's it?"

Pike was unreadable.

"Uh…" Leonard rubbed the back of his neck. "I'll bite. How is that going to help us?"

"Simple. We implement surveillance—manual video feed that is continuous, not cycling like the on-campus feed—and collect concrete evidence against Cadets Burgess and Lenot. Jameson, as you can see, has all but taken care of himself."

Leonard was floundering. "Alright, so we collect proof of these idiots… doing whatever it is they do…but we can't tag the entire campus. Even aside from the red tape, it would make everyone jumpy. How do we even know where to set this thing up? Jim's kind of all over the place."

Pike cast him a look that aside from making him feel a little dense, gave Leonard the distinct impression that he wasn't going to like the answer to that question.

"An adequately tempting scenario should do the trick."

It took a moment for that to process in the doctor's mind.

"No."

Pike cocked his head at him, but didn't look entirely surprised at his reaction.

"Absolutely not." McCoy repeated, standing again. That volcano of anger in his chest was bubbling again, threatening to erupt. "You can't be serious."

"On the contrary." Pike reached for his mug and took a long drink. "I'm dead serious."

_Cue eruption._

"Are you out of your mind?" Leonard exploded, uncaring that everyone in the outside hallway was probably now privy to the conversation. "That's your answer? Protect Jim by dropping him into the fire?"

"A controlled environment. We wouldn't allow it to get out of hand." Pike was being impressively collected for a Starfleet officer being screamed at by a cadet.

"Yeah, could you guarantee that?" The doctor fumed. "I don't care how 'controlled' it is; there's no freaking way we could keep something from happening. I don't know if this is how you use people in Starfleet, as a means to an end, but I for one am not going to put Jim's _life_ in danger."

"Not even to stop these cadets?" Pike tilted his head. "Once and for all, get them arrested and away from Kirk? It's the only way to make an irrefutable case."

"I'd rather see them walking free from a distance then know they're within a hundred feet of him with intent to kill." Leonard snapped, spinning away towards the door. He turned back abruptly. "They will kill him, you know. It's just a matter of time."

Pike looked a little disappointed. "My point exactly, Doctor." Silence followed, and he breathed out a soft sigh of resignation, spinning his chair away, back towards the window. "Let me know if you have a change of heart."

Leonard ground his jaw so hard it hurt. "I won't."

He slammed the door behind him hard enough to rattle the nearby plaques, and stormed from the building without so much as a glance back.

Here he was again, just like always—angry. He was angry at Jim; angry at Pike, angry at the buffoons who had started this mess, but mostly he was furious with himself. Incensed that he'd had the audacity to hope things could change, just like that. He hadn't even realized how much he'd been counting on Pike to have the miracle cure, some kind of heavyweight option to just transfer the cadets out, or arrest them for something. Anything but this stupid, insane, infuriating plan to use Jim as _bait_ for morons who already had more of his blood on their hands than the doctor cared to remember.

Of one thing he was sure, and one thing only. He was going to keep Burgess and Lenot from ever hurting Jim again—even if it killed him.

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OHGOODLORD.

I managed to stick my head above water long enough to get you this chapter, but considering the insanity of this semester, I can't promise you'll see me again before finals. I will try, I promise. Especially since we're getting down to the wire on the last few chapters here. So, so sorry, all you beautiful people. I keep rereading your reviews to remind me that you miss me. It inspires me.

I don't have time to respond to every review—I'm staying late at work to post this—but first let me say that Laynee and Zemby sent me some super-amazing, super-inspiring prompts and I can't wait to get them done. That's all I'm going to say about that. :)

Secondly: I apologize if some of you feel like this story has gotten a little slashy; I'm big on the bromance and I do read slash, so I can see where it may have toed that line a little. To be clear, I'd rather read good friendship stories: They're just all but impossible to find. I want to assure you that in the end, as cuddly as our favorite Captain and CMO get, this story, and the entire series, will remain non-slash. Don't count on me throwing in a female OC or love interest though. Jim's straight, but Bones is his first priority bromance. X) Because I say so.

Please review! I miss you. :)


	14. Where Angels Fear to Tread

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Chapter Fourteen: Where Angels Fear to Tread

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"For fools rush in where angels fear to tread."

_Alexander Pope_

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Still running on residual rage, Leonard was none-too-quiet about storming back into his dorm room. He didn't see Jim laying on the couch until he'd already flicked the light on and the kid responded by groaning in pain.

"Jim?" Startled, Leonard was quick to recognize his mistake and turn the light off again. "What's wrong?" 

Jim's only answer was a sudden lurch, and then he was half-leaning off the couch to dry heave into a waste-bin.

Crossing the room in several long strides, Leonard was at his side in an instant, supporting him as his stomach rebelled. The poor kid didn't even have anything in his system to bring up—he'd eaten last in the sim, and part of McCoy's game plan for the day had included dragging the younger man out for a bite to eat. Still, the process sounded painful, and the doctor winced in empathy as he absently rubbed circles on the cadet's back.

"Let me get you something for the pain." He spoke when the worst of the heaving ceased and Jim lay back, exhausted, against the couch arm.

"Don't bother..." Jim mumbled, weakly pulling a pillow over his pale face and shadowed eyes. "Trust me, I've got more of your pain hypos in my system right now than I want to think about."

A quick check of the hypo Leonard had left by Jim's bed confirmed this statement, and suddenly the doctor had a funny sick feeling his gut, because if the younger cadet had _willingly_ taken it, then how bad must the pain really be?

"Just try to relax, Jim." McCoy kept his voice to a near-whisper as he returned and knelt by the couch, just near his friend's head. He gently eased the pillow off Jim's face and placed a hand on his forehead, almost wishing for a fever. That, he could treat. Unfortunately if the sensitivity to light was any indication, he already knew it was a migraine, and with Jim those always proved trickier.

Jim sighed heavily, relishing in the coolness of his friend's hand.

"Not sure what to do for you right now, Jimbo." Leonard sighed regretfully, unfolding his cramping legs to sit against the couch where he could still reach the kid. "That hypo was my trump card, unfortunately. Any idea what brought this on?"

A soft, pained laugh broke from Kirk's dry lips. "Same old."

The doctor frowned. "What does that mean?"

"Same old." Jim repeated, long fingers subconsciously rubbing at his temples. "Dreams. Stress. Shit like that."

Leonard's stomach did that funny thing again; he tried to clear his throat and come up with something he could do to fix this. He really should have seen it coming, honestly: With the building pressure of exams, the sim, and the constant torment from his enemies, it was a miracle Jim hadn't fallen victim to his historically crippling migraines before now. Worse, Jim's body rejected most conventional migraine medication, and those McCoy had tried to use before didn't seem to have anything more than a mild effect. It was odd, but given the disastrous state of the kid's immune system, it really shouldn't have surprised him.

Brows furrowed in worry and thought, Leonard left Jim's side to fetch ice from the freezer—he'd learned to keep plenty on hand with Jim as a roommate—and wrap it in a dishcloth. Letting the kid keep the comforting weight of the pillow firmly over his eyes, he pressed the compress to his forehead. It wouldn't do much to ease the actual pain, but the cold might be able to numb the most tender areas.

Jim grunted his appreciation, fumbling up a hand to take over putting pressure on the compress. Sighing heavily, the doctor resumed his seat by the couch, stretching out his legs to stare sullenly at his regulation boots and wish to high heaven that he could be doing something more useful.

Guilt settled like a cold weight in the pit of Leonard's gut as he listened to Jim carefully regulate his breathing, discomfort belied by the occasional shuddering breath he couldn't control. McCoy knew this wasn't his fault—Jim's rebellious body often did more to sabotage him than any dozen of his worst enemies—but he still felt that there must have been some point at which the doctor could have _put a stop to this insanity._ The hazing, the verbal torment, the physical abuse. Jim had spent a very long time hiding the effects those things had wrought on him, physically and emotionally, and he was paying for it now, even when the perpetrators were nowhere near.

This realization hit the doctor like a ton of bricks, and with it came the sudden, terrifying revelation that if this didn't come to an end soon, one way or another, it might be past something that Jim could "get over". The scars left by Tarsus and his stepfather had been bad enough, and they still haunted the kid daily. Would this become something similar? Would the torture end only after it had left permanent scars on Jim, body and soul?

There was a sour taste in his mouth as the doctor craned his neck back towards Jim, who seemed to be feeling at least marginally more comfortable.

"How you doing, kid?"

"I'm alive." Jim tried to smile, tried damn hard.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Only if you don't mind if I don't remember it later."

"If there was a way you could end all of this... would you take it?"

Easing the pillow and ice from his face briefly, the younger cadet peeled one eye open to frown slightly at the doctor. "I'm not killing myself, if that's what you're asking." he joked, and how he managed to do that while he was in so much pain mystified the doctor.

"Never mind." Leonard smiled tiredly, suddenly realizing that he didn't even really need a straight answer out of Jim. Not on this. He already knew what the cadet would say; what he'd do. "Let's talk about it when you're feeling better, alright?"

Not waiting for an answer—which didn't come, in any case—Leonard retrieved his bag and applied a hypo to Jim's neck without asking for permission. The kid had to know what it was, but he didn't even flinch at the sound, or curse or rant or promise to kill the doctor in his sleep for his trickery.

Leonard sat across from him and watched as Jim's muscles slowly slackened and the cadet drifted into a deep, painless sleep. Feeling heavy and drained, Leonard shuffled to the desk across the room and powered up his console.

Pulling up a message to Captain Pike, he typed two simple words, and hit send.

_I'm in._

.

The next morning, Jim looked for all the world like a man who'd been hit by a truck, but this was an improvement by both their standards. It was the weekend now (and when had that snuck up on them?) so the campus was mostly abandoned and they were left in peace to wander the sidewalks. Jim had insisted on getting some air, and honestly the idea wasn't unwelcome to the doctor either, so he surreptitiously steered them in the direction of the cafeteria during their travels. If Jim noticed, he didn't say anything, and Leonard was more than willing to interpret that as acceptance.

The massive hall was mostly empty, occupied by the odd cadet getting in some extra study time or a late waker hunting for breakfast, and there were plenty of quiet corners left for the pair to retreat to after ordering through the replicators that lined the farthest wall.

Glancing over none-too-subtly to insure Jim had chosen something at least marginally healthy to eat, the doctor tore into his sandwich (and who cared if that wasn't technically breakfast food?), feeling it necessary to get that out of the way before the conversation he intended to have.

Jim ate with somewhat more reserve, though he was clearly famished from his unintentional fast, and both men cleaned their plates in a matter of minutes. Reaching for the tall black coffee he'd been craving all morning, Leonard downed half of it in a long gulp before grimacing and coming up for air.

"This stuff gets shittier by the day." He remarked regretfully, but still continued drinking.

Jim grunted in agreement.

"I talked to Pike yesterday." The doctor watched Jim closely for a reaction, some sign that maybe this wasn't the right time for this conversation. Anything, really.

Jim simply shrugged. Cleaning the last scraps from his plate, he set his fork down and met his friend's eyes squarely.

Taken aback, McCoy simply blinked. "You don't seem surprised."

Another shrug, and dammit Leonard hated when the kid did that.

"Right. I'm going to interpret that as a positive thing, then."

"What, am I supposed to freak out at you or something? So you talked to Pike. Big deal. Should have seen it coming, I guess."

"How's that?"

A smirk from Jim, and that was relieving to see. "You're both way too nosy to mind your own business."

"Believe it. It's why you're still alive, kid."

Jim sighed heavily, one hand rising to his temple in a sign clearer to the doctor than any words that the pain wasn't completely gone yet. "Didn't you have something you wanted to talk to me about?"

"I thought you weren't going to remember that." Setting his shoulders, Leonard shuttled both their trays to the nearby disposal bin and let them whisk away into some kind of cleaning system somewhere. Damned if he knew where those things went.

"Sometimes I don't. Sometimes I do. Turns out I remembered, this time." Jim was taking his time with his coffee, an infinitesimal sign that he was saving some for the conversation ahead of them.

The doctor returned to his seat, repressing the sudden, selfish wish that they could have this talk over alcohol, as they'd had so many others, but it was only a fleeting thought. He hadn't exactly sworn off drinking since his last disastrous fiasco, but it was pretty close. By unspoken agreement, neither of them brought liquor back to the dorm anymore, and their bar outings had dwindled down to almost nonexistent lately.

"We... Pike has come up with a plan to... you know. Fix things." That sounded terribly flat to his own ears, so McCoy fumbled forward. "Look, he has this plan. But I don't like it, and if you have any sense at all, _you're _not going to like it, because it's stupid and dangerous and we're just asking for something to go horribly wrong if it fails. And it's not something I can do without talking to you, because goddammit, you have a right to know, and if we're going to be—"

"What do you need me to do?"

Leonard stared.

Jim stared back, and maybe it was the fact that he didn't look away, or the deep shadows under his eyes, or the way he looked tired and worn out, but something kept the doctor from his usual tirade on the kid's idiocy and penchant for throwing himself into stupid situations without looking first.

Instead, the doctor took a deep, calming breath through his nose, and tried to relax the bunched muscles in his shoulders. There really was no going back now.

"Jim... Are you sure about this?"

"Bones." Jim set his coffee cup down with a sharp 'click', and immediately the cadet had McCoy's attention. "I've had it. I'm done with this. I'm interfering with your life—a lot—and now with Pike's. I've caused trouble for half the freaking campus by letting this go on so long, and if there's something you need me to do to make it go away that doesn't involve my word against theirs... I'm in."

_Who are you and what the hell have you done with James Kirk?_ Leonard couldn't help but gape.

"What happened to not wanting to make things worse?" McCoy couldn't help but argue, even though his mind was telling him to _shut up _and get this over with before the kid changed his mind. "What happened to not running?"

Jim flinched a little at his own words being mirrored back for him and Leonard instantly regretted saying it, but the younger man was not that easily cowed.

"I've been running. By doing nothing, I've been defeated." Jim admitted quietly into his coffee, not looking up. "I haven't been fixing anything by lying here and taking whatever they want to give me." A long, loaded pause, the next phrase little more than a whisper. "You know, sometimes they didn't even have to hold me down."

McCoy thought he might be sick.

Not realizing what his words were doing to his friend, Jim's hands twisted and worried at his coffee cup as he went on. "I thought that once they'd had their fun, they would move on. Or maybe, if they were torturing _me_, then they weren't hurting someone else. I was wrong." His eyes flickered up, too quick to really catch, and away again. "I need to... I need to stop it."

Leonard had to swallow twice before he could answer. "I'm proud of you kid. I'll admit, that's not what I expected to hear. But after everything... I am _damn_ glad to hear it."

Jim laughed, a short, nervous sound that was almost painful. He quickly released one hand from his coffee to run through his hair, but the doctor's quick eyes caught that it was shaking. The kid was terrified, and hiding it well. He put on a brave face, but no amount of false bravado could completely erase the memories of what Burgess and Lenot had done to him; might still be able to do to him.

Aching, McCoy just barely resisted reaching out to the cadet. This was a battle he could fight _with_ Jim, but not for him. It was a stand he had begun to make on his own, and would have to finish. Leonard couldn't fix it, couldn't heal it or shield it or stop it from happening. They'd reached the point of inevitability. As painful as the coming days might be for all of them, there was no avoiding it, only powering through.

"Jim." The doctor had to say, waiting for the younger man to meet his eyes squarely. "You're not alone in this. Not this time."

Another smile, this one slightly less forced. "I know, Bones. Now tell me about this plan of yours before I change my mind."

Taking a deep, bracing breath, Leonard did.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-

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Ugh, four months between updates? I'm _so sorry_. I've probably lost most of a you to a new semester, but I figured I owed you. I really do plan to finish this story soon, I swear! Getting a wave of new reviews will definitely inspire me, too. ;]

Thank you SO MUCH to **Wahoogal06, Jimmy Candlestick, Titan16, kayenem, BlueNynaeve, WickedBlue, **my most beautiful, wonderful, amazing and inspirational reviewers. :

Also to:

**Laynee**: As always, thank you millions for your glowing review. I always get so excited when I get that e-mail notification that you've reviewed. I'm all like "yes, a super-long funny one!" I hope the story ends to your satisfaction. :)

**And I'm all out of bubblegum**: Gah, be still my heart! I think I read and reread your review at least a dozen times. I'm so happy and honored that you seem to really understand where I'm coming from in my perspective on the relationship between Jim and Bones. You're one of the first I've met who seems to so exactly share my view on Jim's past and the conflict and turmoil it would wreak on potential friendships. Please don't ever apologize for lengthy reviews; they really are my absolute favorites. I hope you continue reading, and that I do our favorite boys justice in the end. Thank you again! Much love!

**LeDragonQuiMangeDuPoisson**: Thank you so much, for all you've written. You make me smile, and I do mean that in a literal sense. I'll be sitting on my phone reading reviews, smiling like an idiot, and anyone else in the room will think I'm completely insane. That's alright, I'll be insane for you. :) I'm so glad that you've enjoyed those story so much, and I'll definitely work harder on quicker updates and a satisfying conclusion. Please continue reading, you know you need the fuel for a new semester. ;)

Additionally, **Laynee** and **Zemby**: I thought you should know: your one-shots are still on my plate. One of them is nearly done, in fact. I'll post it as soon as I finish this story. :]

Love you all. Cyber hugs! Let me know what you think of the new chapter, there's only one or two left until the end!


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